Five Days of Perpetual Night
by tw1pad
Summary: Did you ever wonder how Christian spent those five days away from Ana? Did he miss her? How did he spend those five gut-wrenching days? Here is my theory of how the time passed... Rated M for swearing and angry playroom scene!
1. Chapter 1

All works owned by E.L James... as we all know!

Read, and enjoy!

A/N: I am having issues with line breaks. So I had to use keyboard characters to signify POV change. The POV is in Christian's for all intensive purposes. p.s. Enjoy the blueberry line breaks!

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**Saturday, June 4, 2011 Early dawn.**

… _Walk in silence, _

_Don't walk away, _

_in silence. _

… _See the danger, _

_Always danger, _

_Endless talking, _

_Life rebuilding, _

_Don't walk away. _

"I don't want you to go," I murmur, unable to keep my voice from breaking. I look at Ana and see the steely determination in her eyes. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room. The room was now a void; a frozen wasteland where sound and light have left no trace.

… _Walk in silence, _

_Don't turn away, in silence. _

_Your confusion, _

_My illusion, _

"I can't stay. I know what I want and you can't give it to me, and I can't give you what you need." Ana states with false bravado. I step toward her, Ana recoils and raises her hands. "Don't, please. I can't do this." Anastasia grabs her suitcase and backpack and heads to the foyer. Pausing, she takes a long, hard look around my apartment; one that I hoped to share with her someday. She glances at the long, white couch where she signed the NDA. She gazes at the beautiful piano where only a short time ago, I played such beautiful, mournful music. She sees the life that she has to abandon.

I follow behind, keeping a careful distance. I reluctantly press the elevator button and the doors open. I have never wanted this elevator to be so slow before. Climbing in, Ana murmurs, "Goodbye, Christian." Her voice is despondent. Her glassy eyes are holding back unshed tears. The doors slide shut and the elevator descends, taking away my heart with it.

… _Worn like a mask of self-hate, _

_Confronts and then dies. _

_Don't wa—_

I numbly turn back; my feet concrete blocks as I reenter the apartment. I run both hands through my hair and pull. I feel my world crashing around me. There is a deep ache in my heart that I have never allowed myself to ever feel. My chest is constricting; my lungs are not getting the much-needed release from breathing. I grab the iPod from its dock and hurl it against the wall. The music that once played so softly, is now a mockery. I feel like a failure. I _never_ fail and this loss is a demon sneering back at me. I smash the art-deco vase, sending glass and fragrant white and pink peonies flying. I fall to my knees and curl up into a foetal position; not caring that I am laying on tepid water and shards of broken glass.

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(Gail POV)

Awakened by the loud crash, Gail cautiously heads to the entrance of the great room. She is hesitant to approach Christian's pathetic form laying crumpled on the floor. After four years of working for him she is wary to test that staunch and professional relationship. She is empathetic, but is not sure how to help him—or if Christian would even want her help. Deciding that dithering was no longer an option, Gail silently walks to the sofa, grabs a throw blanket and with great gentleness, covers the now-sleeping Christian. Silent tears roll gently down her cheeks as she tip-toes back to her apartment.

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(Christian POV)

I wake, groggy and nauseous. My head feels heavy like a lead ball tethered by a cotton string. I notice that there is a blanket on me. I close my eyes and wince, realizing that there was a witness to my earlier outburst. I like control and I have lost it. Ana has a way of making my control... evaporate. I feel the sting of small cuts where glass has embedded my skin. _This_ pain is manageable.

I stand and head to my bathroom to clean the cuts. I take a long, hot shower to soothe my aches from laying on that cold floor. Pain lashes through me and I sink to the shower floor. I cannot stop the sobs that escape. Hot tears mix with the running water, concealing all trace. I attempt to suss out how the night of Ana's return ended in such a bitter farewell. I go back to the start: images of Ana, returning from her trip, dressed in a skirt too short for Seattle's climate. I remember the instant she entered the room, I near ravaged her with kisses and she reciprocated just as fiercely. Taking her hot and hard against the bathroom wall before taking an exquisite shower. I remember the Thomas Tallis piece playing alongside the pleasure we received in the Red room. _What happened to us? _Then it hits me—my damn insistence of the Playroom Rules. I was foolish to dismiss the original outlined contract, but I still insisted on the rules. _Damn, I even made her reread them. _The chase. This is when I should have known better. I should have listened to Ana when she said 'she felt about punishment the way I felt about being touched'. I should not have let her see my pain. She wanted the bare truth of how intense punishment with my belt can be. I was foolish to entertain her request. She could not take the bite of the belt, causing her to think we were incompatible. She told me she loved me and I told her that it was... _**wrong**_. _This is why she left._

Entering my bedroom, I grab sweats and a tee. On my pillow there is a small box with a note attached. I lean in and pull them up. Inside the box is a model kit for a Blahnik L23 glider. _My glider_. The note, written in her hand reads:

**This reminded me of a happy time.**

** Thank You.**

** Ana**

Sobs escape as I scoop up the kit and head to the breakfast bar.

I sat at the table assembling the kit for what seemed like hours. The air was crackling static; both Gail and Taylor would beat a hasty retreat when not needed. Gail—on her part—stayed long enough to prepare a simple pot pie and steamed greens. Taylor stayed in the control room, only waiting for any given request. Nothing was ever mentioned regarding this morning. Hell, I'm a Dom; nothing—if ever—surprises them. It sickens me, the fact that they have witnessed the comings and goings of various subs—that I garner no shame; but to have Gail witness my emotional outburst—that makes me feel inhuman and vulnerable. No one needs to see that. _Especially _from me_._

My Blackberry vibrates. I peek at the text caller id and grimace. I _so_ don't want to talk to anyone today.

Scrolling through the missed calls, emails and texts, I see that Elena has left several texts and a voice mail. I hit her speed dial number and call.

"Christian, so good of you to call me back. I was getting so lonely!" she purred into the phone.

"What is it, Elena, I'm kind of busy." I am trying my best not to sound brusque, but I am not in a mood to be toyed with.

"Lover, the gala is tonight and _you_ are not here," she pouts. Once upon a time that was sexy, now it is just annoying and inappropriate.

Oh crap, that's right... the gala. I had intended to bring Ana along, but that is an impossibility now. "Sorry, other plans came up."

"Christian, my dearest, you're so cold today. Want me to skip this thing and come by to... cheer you up?" She is purring, but I can't tell if she is seriously flirting with me or if simply trying to get a rise out of me. "Wait, where _is_ the lovely Anastasia?"

Anger grips me and I cannot hide it in my words. "That is not any of your concern," I spit through gritted teeth. Taking a deep breath, I try again, using another approach. "Things have changed, Elena, and I will not be showing up there tonight." My patience is at its limit. "Have a nice time tonight, and I will speak with you soon. Goodbye." I cut off before she can respond.

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(Elena POV)

Elena snaps the phone shut. She is smiling to herself. _Well, well, it seems like there is trouble in paradise. It was well worth the wait for Christian to see that his 'Sweet Ana' is a gold-digging whore and is not worthy of such a fine specimen._ _I played my cards right, convincing Christian to follow Ana to Georgia._ _That probably chased her away. _She smiles a smug grin and leans into the bar, "Bartender, another glass of Bollinger, please."

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(Christian POV)

I complete the glider. It was such a thoughtful and sentimental thing for Ana to do for me. This thought has that deep wound in my chest opening up deeper. I think back to my visit to Georgia, chasing the dawn with her. Like flying in Charlie Tango, Ana was the only woman I allowed in my glider. I set the glider on the dresser and insert Ana's folded note into my wallet. _See, I can be sentimental too. _

The day is over and I dread going to bed. I focused my mind on finishing the model to keep me busy but it was only a temporary solution. I fought hard to keep memories from filling my head. I only know _too well_ what will happen when I go to sleep. I am averse to total sleep deprivation, but I struggle to keep awake. I change into my pyjama bottoms and head off to the piano.

**Sunday, June 5, 2011**

I wake early after a few hours sleep. There are normally things that I want to accomplish at the start of my day: logging into my work PC and respond to e-mails, review spreadsheets, etc. Now I can't think of a single thing that I need to do. I want to get up, but that rip in my chest is pulling at my throat. Inside is a burning feeling like you need to cry, but you swallow the feeling because you want to imprison it. I decide that I can't stay in bed either, as it leaves my mind open to think of Anastasia.

I drag myself from the bed, deciding that I am a pitiful sight. I give myself the 'talk'. I attempt to shake myself out of this mood and be the successful entrepreneur that I am. I head to my dresser and there it is—the little red box. All the strength that I had gathered to leave the bed instantly vaporizes. Clutching the box I sink to my knees. I close my eyes and slowly open the box. I know what is inside, but my heart and eyes disagree if it should be opened. I cautiously open my eyes and glance into the box—it

is painful like slowly pulling off a band-aid. Inside is a pair of Cartier diamond earrings, brilliantly cut within a simple inlay. Each has four stunning diamonds dropping in a line. This is a style that I know that Ana would approve of. The design is simple, but classic; not showy or ostentatious. These compliment her elegant and genuine nature.

After a hot shower and a light lunch of tuna sandwiches and minestrone soup, I instruct Taylor to get the car. "Miss Steel's, please." Taylor seems caught off-guard and slightly surprised. He nods his head and starts the car. We arrive at Ana's apartment awhile later. I instruct Taylor to stay at the far end of the parking lot, but still within view of her door. We sit for a few hours staring. Neither one of us are engaging in conversation; Taylor because he has his iPod earbuds in his ears, and myself because I was distracted by my phone and lost in my thoughts of Ana. I spend this time scrolling through my Blackberry to catch up on emails and voice mails. _No word from Ana_. I know that Taylor must be wondering why we are here, but he will never question my instructions. After several minutes more, I unwillingly relent, "Let's go home, Taylor, we are done here." I was unable to gather the courage to go to her door. There was also no movement near her window. _Maybe she is out?_

We step into the apartment. I toss my jacket on the breakfast bar and notice Ana's Mac book Pro, her car keys, and her Blackberry. _Just things still here to remind me of her..._ Unable to control myself, I pick up her phone and see that a voice mail is waiting. I call the voice mail and it is a message from Jose:

… _Ana, um, hi, it's me. I don't know if you are still with that Grey guy, but um, I still need to talk to you. You have not responded to my invite for my art show in Portland this Thursday. I guess I will hold two tickets for you. Maybe you and I can go have a nice dinner afterward. I want to make things up to you. I look forward to seeing you. Please call me back. I really miss you..._

Ire courses throughout my body. How dare he try to take what _is _mine! I set the phone down carefully before I can break it. I reach a new level of anger that I have never been. I am past seeing red—I am well past seeing white. I unclench my fists, seeing the nail marks embedded in my palms. Vulgar thoughts of what Ana can be doing in my absence fill my thoughts. Is she _fucking_ someone? Who is she with? We did not see her today... Does she _even_ fucking miss me? I bet she is with a man, getting over _me_ by laying beneath another! That fucking bitch! Without thinking, I grab my phone and punch a number in speed dial."This is Master Grey, send me Ingrid. One hour," I hiss. I shut off the phone and storm toward my office.

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(Ingrid POV)

Ingrid could not contain her happiness. She had heard rumours that Master Grey was not actively seeking subs, but she was elated that her services were demanded from_ him_. It has been a long time since she had the _pleasure_ of his company, and that visit had been way too brief and she had **not** been offered a second meeting. She read his dossier and knows what he likes. She knew his other subs. She knew that one left by her own volition because she met someone else, and the other three submissive 'relationships' he ended because they wanted 'more'. Ingrid thought hopefully to herself, maybe I can be his '_more_'. She quickly braids her straight, chestnut brown hair, and sets off to see her Master.

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(Christian POV)

I pace my office, angry with myself for what I have just done, but for also what I think I am about to do. Maybe I am not good enough for Ana. I should let her go. **She** let me go. _Then getting a sub is fair game._ Taylor announces that Ingrid has arrived. There is a questioning look in his eyes, but it slips so quickly that I almost miss it. He will not dare to pass judgement on me. I exit the office and greet her. "Be ready in the playroom. Five minutes. Go. Now." Ingrid looks startled, but like a good little sub, she nods and heads to the playroom.

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Oooooh, cliffhanger! Stay tuned for the next chapter! I want to give credit for the song, 'Atmosphere' from Joy Division. If you've never listened to it before, I strongly recommend it! You Tube it! I feel that it was the perfect song to set the stage!


	2. Chapter 2

**Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! People! Put down those fiery torches and pitchforks! **Wow! I was not expecting the outpouring of responses-all of which pertained to Christian calling for a sub! The threats I received were ingenious and inventive! All stated that 'He wouldn't do this.' But he does. I will be the first to raise my hand when I say that when _**I**_am hurt, I regress to what makes me feel safe—even if that coping mechanism is not healthy for me. It _is_ fair _and_ realistic to say that he _**can**_ because of this simple fact: intellectually he is still a lost, little boy who is scared and who was horribly neglected as a child. Was Christian hurt by Ana leaving? He was, beyond comprehension. (**aka** 'You bet your ass he was!') He is instinctively reverting or regressing back to his comfort zone. This is **his** place where he can cope the only 'way he knows how', but also where he can regain his own sense of control. Have you all _no faith_ in Christian? Readers, please read on. I make no promise that this chapter will have cute, fuzzy bunnies and candy-coated rainbows, but there **is** light at the end of this tunnel. After all, there are only five days in all to cover, and in my estimation this story will only fill three or four chapters! (Besides, we all know how the rest of the trilogy ends!) The bad stuff is already happening, so that leaves only good things left... right? (That is what my therapist tells me anyway—I know, right!) *giggles* Disclaimer: yes, we all know that E.L. James is to be credited! **(Whew! Is the angry mob gone? *peeking through window*)**

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**Sunday, June 5 late evening**

I walk to my room, fishing my Blackberry from my pocket. I sit on the edge of the bed and remove my shoes and socks. I scan through any missed texts, e-mails or voice mails that may have been left from Ana.I close my eyes, shake my head, and sigh. There were none. _Please, please, Ana, give me reason to stop this..._

I arrive at the door of the playroom. I stop and pause with my hand on the door handle. I lean in and press my forehead against the door. I am conflicted. _Ana doesn't love you anymore, you sick bastard! That's what she called you! Sick, Sick, Sick bastard! She took your heart away and burned it! She left you an empty husk of a man. You are nothing now! You are unlovable! You. Can. Not. Be. Loved! _My insecure inner child is taunting me, coaxing and daring me to open that door. Hating myself, I open the door and step inside.

When I enter, I am instantly hit with that citrusy-scented cleaner that Gail uses to clean this room. I shudder. It immediately takes me back to the last time I was in this room. Ana _left me_ because of this room. Subconsciously, I had been avoiding this room since Ana left. I feel a sickening deep within my core. I peer down at Ingrid who is posed in the 'submissive kneeling position' with her fingers splayed across the tops of her thighs. She is dressed only in panties. Her head is bowed. She indeed knows how to wait for her Master. Ignoring her, I walk past her and head toward the music system on the wall. I am in the mood for some retro 1980's music. I press the 'play' button and the music starts.

… _I am the son_

_and the heir_

_of a shyness that is criminally vulgar_

_I am the son and heir_

_of nothing in particular..._

I walk over to Ingrid and yank her head back by her braid and tie a silk scarf over her eyes. I don't want her to look at me. _I don't want to see myself in her eyes._

… _You shut your mouth_

_how can you say_

_I go about things the wrong way_

_I am human and I need to be loved_

_just like everybody else does..._

I go to the wall containing all manner sexual instruments: whips, floggers, canes, and belts. There are so many choices but I have not decided on what scenario to do with Ingrid. I select a cane from the wall. I grasp each end, bending it a few times to gauge its flex point.

… _There's a club if you'd like to go_

_you could meet somebody who really loves you_

_so you go, and you stand on your own_

_and you leave on your own_

_and you go home, and you cry_

_and you want to die..._

With cat-like grace I saunter towards her. "You remember the safe-word, do you not?" She nods. This music is boring itself into my head and making its home. I narrow my eyes into thin slits, drinking in the words. I take the cane and slowly run a trail from the panty line, up her spine, and stop at her nape. Ingrid gasps quietly, but I don't give her any time to recover. I forcefully slam the cane down on her left buttock. She nearly fell forward, but her years as a submissive taught her how to recover herself. There is an angry welt forming. She sucks in her loud cry. My eye lids rip open and I gasp,"Ana! I am so sorry—"

… _When you say it's gonna happen "now"_

_well, when exactly do you mean?_

_see I've already waited too long_

_and all my hope is gone..._

I drop the cane like it was covered in thistles. My mouth is agape and I am blinking my eyes. For a moment I am at a loss. I am muddled and confused. I blink my eyes as I look around the room. I see only Ana through my eyes and I cannot escape her silent judgment. _What am I doing? This is WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! _I feel flames ripping throughout my chest. Bile is rising to the surface and I think I am going to be sick. I am not feeling any gratification whatsoever—emotional, sexual, or physical—from this. If anything, I feel nothing at all; only degenerate. I run to the wall and pull the instruments off, littering the floor like limbs from an exploded tree. I then stomp over to the chest and topple it; sending carabiners and other little devices from within the drawers out, meeting the same fate as their brothers from the wall. There are sonic booms echoing from within this room.

I storm over to Ingrid and rip the scarf off her head. I toss her clothes at her, as well as the envelope containing her fee. She can't help but to be startled. She glances up, her fear and confusion betraying her experienced submissive control, "Master Grey—"

"Get out," I whisper as calmly as I can, but this is a challenge as my lungs are now two deflated balloons. I point toward the door and turn my head away. My hold on this situation is beyond tenuous. I cannot bear to look at her. Looking at her makes me look at myself and _I am ashamed of who I see staring back. _Ingrid is frozen and is not moving as fast as I need her to. I inhale sharply and hiss louder through gritted teeth as I turn back to face her, "Get out." She is looking at me, confused that her clothes are piled on her. I want her gone. I need her gone. Now. "Get dressed. NOW!" I growl. " JUST GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!"

Ingrid hastily dons her wrap dress, wisely deciding that putting her bra on would take extra time. She grabs the rest of her clothes and purse, and reaches the door. "Taylor will see to getting you to wherever you want to go," I punch the words out one-by-one. She stands toward the door with her back to me. I do not have to see her parting glance. I don't have to guess if there are tears flowing down her cheeks. I only see Ana. I hear the door slamming shut behind her as she leaves.

I crawl over to the large bed and clamber on. My head is spinning and my eyes are stinging with acidic tears. I feel like I am swallowing fire. I thrust my body forward, leaning my head over the edge. I vomit and follow with dry-heaves. I feel the warm stickiness of blood and spittle on my face. I wipe the blood from my chin with my sleeve and moan out Ana's name.

… _You shut your mouth_

_how can you say_

_I go about things the wrong way_

_I am human and I need to be loved_

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_just like everybody else does... _

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_Mommy, hurry, he's coming back!_

_We have to hide now, C'mon mommy, please!_

_Hold my hand, mommy!_

_I'm too scared and he is making too much loud noise!_

_Mommy, get up! He's coming!_

_I have to hide, mommy!_

_I'm safe, mommy! He can't see me under this table!_

_Please, stop hitting my mommy with that belt!_

"_You are just a fuck-up! You are just a fuck-up! You are just a fuck-up!_

_You are one fucked-up bitch!"_

_Mommy, he is leaving now. I will come back to you and cuddle._

_Mommy, I can make you happy. Don't be sad, Mommy._

_Mommy? My hands are big now. Why am I bigger now, mommy?_

_Mommy? Mommy? I scoot over to mommy and tilt her head toward me._

_It's not mommy anymore. It is Ana. Her cold, dead eyes are staring back at me. _

**Monday, June 6 Early morning**

I wake up with a jolt. I am drenched with sweat; my hair is stuck to my face and my shirt is sticking to my skin. I am disoriented. There are dim lights being thrown from above the wall sconces. I look around the slightly dim room, realization dawning on me that I am still in the playroom. I start to shake and shiver because of the cold sweat. My heart is pounding a ragged beat and my breathing is erratic. I peer over the bed and see traces of blood and vomit. I'm not sure if I spit up the blood or if I cut myself during my rage. I still have the acrid taste of stomach acid in my mouth. I look farther around the room and see the devastation that I caused. It was pure destruction, borne from unbridled and insurmountable anger.

My head is aching and I feel weak. I slowly get to my feet and summon enough energy to leave this room. I can't stand to be here a moment longer. I am still shuddering from that dream; terror over Ana's unguarded safety is immeasurable. My body feels like there are thousands of red fire ants, each stinging me deeper and deeper. Seeing Anastasia in that dream was a death I never want to feel again. _Ana, what have you done to me?_

I finally leave the playroom and make it to my bedroom. I peel off my shirt and notice traces of blood on the sleeve. I disrobe, knowing that a hot shower will relieve some of the glacial cold that is still chilling me to the bone. I am still reeling from that horrific nightmare. I swallow a deep breath; deciding that I need to grab hold of this situation. I need to be proactive instead of reactive. _Good Lord, I'm starting to sound like Flynn. _I am overly anxious and desperately need to see Flynn, but it is way too early to call. I grab my Blackberry and call his personal line. The call goes to voice mail. "John, please help me!"

I notice that the time is nearing 6 a.m. I summon Taylor. "Taylor, I need a security detail on Ana starting as soon as you can find someone whom you trust implicitly." Taylor nods, "Right away. I have the right man in mind. Name is Luke Sawyer. Was in a detail with me a few years ago." Taylor exits, heading to the control room, no doubt to make his call. Ana may have left me, but that doesn't mean that I _still_ can't protect her. That dream is nagging at me deep in my viscera—with Leila unstable and because of her prior attempt at opening her vein, I want Ana protected. _She. Is. Mine. _

Forty-five minutes later Sawyer arrives. He seems a little young, but that is a plus—as it shows that he is still physically fit. He is broad-shouldered and tall. He has an austere manner that I approve of. He seems well-trained and I genuinely know that he will protect _my_ Ana with his life. I will consider him for any future close-protection detail that I may need. I give him the basic outline and expectations of the detail I want covered. I specifically want to know her whereabouts and who she is with at all times. I give him a copy of a photograph—the one of Ana and I at her graduation. He signs the NDA and employment contract that Taylor presented to him. When they are signed, Sawyer leaves to start his security watch on Ana.

I realize that it is Monday. I remember that this is Ana's first day in her new job at SIP. I want to send her flowers but I don't know how she will respond. But what harm is there in doing this? After all, it is a friend congratulating another by means of gifting flowers. That is the lie that I am telling myself. _I miss her so, so much. I want her back._

I head to my office earlier than my usual time. I am so proud of the model build that I decide it will keep a special place on my desk. It is the _only_ thing from Ana that I have. I instruct Andrea to cancel and reschedule any of today's meetings. I cannot focus on any work today. The knots in my stomach are beginning to loosen, knowing that Ana will soon be protected. I am starting to feel a little giddy. I decide that I will be brave and send her flowers. Because I want this gift to come from my heart, I compose my own personal note. I don't want a florist to say this for me. I open up my word program and start:

_**Ana, **_

_**I am so sorry that we had to part ways.**_

_**More than you can ever know.**_

_**Please forgive me, **_

_**Christian**_

Ugh! That note makes me sound pathetic and it does not even mention congratulating her for her new job. _Come on, Grey, you can do better than this._ I feel like a nervous schoolboy sending his first box of flowers. Wiping the sweat from my palms, I try again:

_**Ana,**_

_**I hope these flowers cheer you up.**_

_**I hope you had a great first day at work.**_

_**Christian**_

I better try again. This one is worse and I don't even know _what_ she is feeling. I shouldn't assume that she needs to be cheered up. Deep down I hope that she is sad, because if she is—that tells me that she cares for me still. I try another:

_**Ana, **_

_**Congratulations on your first day!**_

_**You will be a fine asset to SIP.**_

_**Please enjoy the flowers.**_

_**Christian **_

This note is worse. Ugh! It sounds too impersonal. This one writes like it is written by any clerk at a flower shop. _What the hell am I trying to say to her? _I close my eyes and think of this weekend. The only bitter-sweet memory I can bear to remember is building that glider. I am actually smiling now for the first time since this weekend. I have found my voice. This is what I want to say:

_**Congratulations on your first day at work.**_

_**I hope it went well.**_

_**And thank you for the glider. That was very **_

_**thoughtful.**_

_**It has pride of place on my desk.**_

_**Christian**_

I delete the other attempts and hit the print button. Moments later my Blackberry buzzes. It is a text from Sawyer:

**08:05 subject leaves residence and takes city bus.**

**Arrived at SIP 08:40.**

**Bus route memorized and entered in GPS. **

**Will maintain surveillance**

**at coffee shop across street.**

**Has perfect views of SIP main door and bus stop.**

**Sawyer**

He is prompt. It is only 8:41 a.m. I can see that I made a good decision. Taylor is to be rewarded on his choice of security detail. I also get a return call from Flynn that he can see me early tomorrow at 7 a.m. His office hours start at nine, but he always makes an exception for me.

I glance at my watch. It is just past noon and I decide that I need a break. There is a high-end florist a block away. I decide that I want to personally choose the flowers. I grab the note I made to send with the flowers. I enter the shop and the scent of roses, freesia and other exotic fragrances fill my senses. I have a small fantasy that I would love to bathe Anastasia in flowers. Petals, like her skin are flawless and just as fragrant. I have the florist go over various arrangements, but I settle for two dozen long-stemmed white roses. I choose white roses because they represent innocence and purity. _My Ana is pure_. The florist also stated that they symbolize 'honor and reverence', and white rose arrangements are often used as an expression of 'remembrance'. _I want her to remember me._

On my way back to the office I get a text from sawyer:

**13:05 Subject heads to coffee shop at end of block.**

**Subject is alone.**

**Notice no food taken with or purchased.**

**13:12 Enters SIP with only a beverage.**

**Sawyer**

I can't stop the surge of anger and frustration that I feel. Ana is a slight, wisp of a woman. She needs to eat. I know that when she is upset or nervous she won't eat. I sigh and shake my head sadly. I want to spank her so badly for this. If that contract was still in place, she would be in infraction of the Rules...

I get to back to G.E.H. I am too distracted and agitated to work. The knots in my stomach are back and the acid in my throat is burning me again. Ana is not eating and I think that she most likely did not eat much, if anything this weekend. All the excitement and giddiness that I was feeling earlier while composing Ana's note has dissolved. I am only now getting tetchier. Andrea is cautious of my mood and is giving me a wide berth. I have already broken two pencils and my Montblanc pen. This pen was a gift from my mother and I feel horrible that I broke it. I decide that I most definitely need to release this tension before I get an ulcer. I page Andrea to see if Claude is available for a kickboxing session today.

I head off at 3:00 p.m. to meet with Claude at the gym. Luckily, I keep a stocked gym bag at the office for emergencies. I chuckle and think to myself. I know _today_ qualifies as an emergency.

We meet in the ring. I'm outfitted in a padded headguard, sparring gloves, and shin in-step guards. Claude is wearing his focus mitts and headguard. We start with a focus routine. I kick into his mitts at different height intervals. We move on to working with the water bag. I am exhausted but there is still more energy I want to burn. I convince Claude that we can end training with a sparring bout. He heads off to suit up in protection gear. I stop and grab my water bottle. I drink like a thirsty man lost in the desert. I am drenched and sweat is dripping from my hair and my nose. Claude returns and we step into the ring.

We end training soon afterward; proud that I was able to knock Claude on his ass twice. That is not an easy feat. I know that for the first time ever, I really put Claude through his paces! I shower and head home. Gail has a meal prepared. I guess that she knows that I feel like having comfort food because she made macaroni and cheese. I smile appreciatively and enjoy the smells in the kitchen. My Blackberry alerts me as I am reaching for my plate. It's an update from Sawyer:

**17:30 subject leaves SIP**

**takes city bus. Arrives home**

**18:10.**

**Sawyer**

I respond, instructing him to maintain surveillance this evening until her apartment lights shut off.

I head to the great room. I am entirely spent, but glad that the sparring session with Claude has drained me so completely that I am hopeful to get a dreamless sleep tonight. I am fighting off the dozing sensation until I get my final update from Sawyer letting me know Ana is safe. Finally at 9:30 p.m. the text arrives:

**21:25 subject **

**retiring for night. **

**All lights off. All entering **

**the building used keys.**

**No visitors buzzed-in.**

**Sawyer**

I am glad. Chances are that Ana had no visitors. I think back to when Ana said I had stalker tendencies. I couldn't argue with that assessment. But I need to keep her safe. I think she would lose her patience with me and become extremely angry if she found out about her discreet surveillance. She asked once what Flynn thought of my 'stalker tendencies'. I told her that 'I pay the eminent Dr. Flynn a small fortune with my regard to my stalker and other tendencies'. I chuckle. She noted in an email that Flynn was an expensive charlatan. I smile. Of all my string of therapists, he is the only one who is not an idiot. I close my eyes and rest my head on the back of the sofa, getting nervous and excited at the same time, wondering about what I am going to reveal to John tomorrow.

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Whew! This one was real hard and anguishing to write! The playroom scene and nightmare scene had me at the edge of my chair and left me hoping that Christian was okay! (And I'm the one writing this!) I already know how my ending goes, but I wanted to make this scene as realistic as possible! As for the angst, we have already hit the bottom and there is nowhere to go but **UP** now!

A/N: Song is 'How Soon Is Now' by the Smiths. Give it a peek on YouTube! It will enhance the playroom scene-I guarantee it!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: special thanks to Harukafics, BnSA (Guest), Emil17, Ready (Guest) and luvfiftyshades for their kind words of encouragement! **=) **Also thanks to those silent few who have decided to follow me on this journey! Thanks for reading!

Also, I feel the song below, Numb, by Portishead, is the perfect song to start before Christian goes to his early morning meeting with Flynn. (I highly recommend listening to this on Youtube as it certainly sets the stage!)

Also, Also, (LOL) this chapter took longer to come out because I had to research SFBT (or SF Therapy methods. This is not an easy feat! My brother-in-law is a shrink. You'd think I'd ask **him** this stuff!) Coincidentally, the day I started to put this chapter to 'paper', I also met with my therapist and she stated that she is trained on SFBT also! How cool is that? (So thanks to Ann for the advice on how to pose the proper questions from John!)

Also I hit a bump in timely efficiency as Kim Harrison's, Undead Pool was released and I had to (eek!) split my time with researching SFBT, reading Kim Harrison and writing!

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_Unable so lost_

_I can't find my way_

_Been searching, but I have never seen_

_A turning, a turning from deceit_

_'Cause the child roses like_

_Try to reveal what I could feel_

_I can't understand myself anymore_

_'Cause I m still feeling lonely_

_Feeling so unholy_

_'Cause the child roses like_

_Try to reveal what I could feel_

_But this loneliness_

_It just won't leave me alone, oh no_

_I'm fooling somebody_

_A faithless path I roam_

_Deceiving to breath this secretly_

_A silence, this silence I can't bear_

_'Cause the child roses like_

_Tries to reveal what I could feel_

_And this loneliness_

_It just won't leave me alone, oh no_

_And this loneliness,_

* * *

_Just won't leave me alone..._

* * *

* * *

**Tuesday, June 7, 2011 Early morning**

I wake in the early dawn hours to find that I am still reclining on the sofa in the great room. I rise and take a long stretch and inhale as I do. I exhale and roll my neck from side to side, trying to relieve the tension that has built up. I see John in a few hours and I am very nervous. If I go to bed now I may get two more hours of sleep, but I am too wound up for that. I decide that the best course of action is to take a hot shower to loosen the knots in my neck and to relax. I know that today's session with John will drain me mentally and emotionally.

I decide on the long, hot shower. I close my eyes; my aching muscles absorb the soothing heat and steam of the shower. My mind drifts to when Ana first came to Escala to sign the NDA. She saw the playroom for the first time and I saw her shock. I saw her innocence and naivety regarding Domination and Submissive roles. I saw her fear of me there in the playroom. I thought for sure that she was going to bolt. I showed her the Playroom Rules. The big revelation that _she_ confided was the secret of her virginity with me. This was _my_ first bout of shock; Ana, a beautiful, single, twenty-one year old virgin. _How in the hell was she able to avoid sex for so long? Ana is so beautiful and so strong and so sweet. But just so damn oblivious of her own beauty! It's a wonder that no one ever swept her off her feet—and with all of her admirers! _That night I took her virginity (as I told her then) –a means to an end. I wanted her as my submissive but she needed to know what she was in for. I wanted her all the more for it. I basked in the beauty of her body. I basked in the glory of her kisses. I recall stroking her soft skin and she in return pulling my hair and moaning in my mouth. I was lost then. She had such a profound effect on me. _I was already lost to her but she did not know it then._

I told her she was mine then. _Only mine_. I bathed her afterward for the first time. It was magnificent. I taught her how to give me manual and oral pleasure; both she took to with great adroitness. I too, got to familiarize myself with her body and savor her hidden and virginal delights. _She was mine and made only for me; my untainted lover._

I am pulled out of my reverie as I notice that the water is running cooler, but also that I am hard. I look down at my erection; needing release almost as much as my ensnared heart does. Sighing, I slowly drop my hand lower and grasp my member, stroking softly a few times. I make quick work of this and as I climax, moan out Ana's name.

Later I am dressed in my gray suit and white linen shirt. No tie today. I am now a bit _more relaxed_ after my shower. I am at the breakfast bar eating the scrambled eggs and toast that Gail has prepared for me. She already took her leave, exiting with a quick smile. I am finishing my orange juice as my Blackberry pings. I check it and see the calendar appointment reminders. One catches my eye: Thursday's appointment to attend her friend's Art exhibit in Portland. My pulse races. _A chance to see Ana again..._

Taylor and I head out to John's office at 6:45 a.m. His office is near Escala, but I want to be there with plenty of time to spare. After a few moments wait in his outer office, John opens his door and politely ushers me in.

"Good morning, Christian." John states, directing me to sit on the dark green leather sofa with a tacit wave of his hand. "Would you like tea or coffee?" John pours himself tea in a china cup.

"Good morning, John. I shall pass on refreshments, but I thank you for the offer." I lean back, resting my arm on the armrest.

"Christian, your message seemed very urgent. Do you want to start with what brings you here this morning?" His tone is soft but there is a hint of curiosity there as well. He has his leather note book in hand and his pen at the ready.

I look down at my fingers and fidget. _Christ, this was something I've seen Ana do often. _I take a deep breath. "Ana's left me, John."

I note the quick look of surprise from John, but it disappears quickly. "I see. Well, lets start with what happened."

Not knowing where to begin, I just offer a brief summary. "She came back from Georgia this past Friday. We had a romantic night followed by a game of chase. She tried to run from me and it became worse from there. The night spiraled down into hell. I accused her of not wanting me to catch her. I told her that if she kept running from me that I would punish her." I pause and chuckle to myself, "Yes, John, I am aware with hindsight, the irony is not lost on me, as I know that she was running away to _avoid _punishment. She confessed to me that she was afraid being punished. I foolishly offered to show her how painful punishment by belt can be. I told her that she can make her own mind up. I lashed her with my belt to the count of... six times." My voice began to crack near the end.

I see John's eyebrows shoot up and he crosses his legs. He catches his own visible surprise and rearranges his face into a calm mask again. "Go on," he states while taking his first sip of tea.

"John, after the lashings I felt so replete and satisfied. I tried to embrace Ana and cuddle her. She didn't want any of it; she struggled from my reach and started yelling. She told me 'never to touch her and that I was one fucked-up son of a bitch.' She stated that she 'cannot be everything that I want her to be.' She packed her things. She told me that she loves me. She then left me at the elevator stating, 'I can't stay. I know what I want and you can't give it to me, and I can't give you what you need.'" This was exhaustive to say, especially since this is extremely painful to discuss. "John, I didn't know how she would react, but I was not expecting that." I pause, then whisper, "Maybe it's for the best and I should let her go."

Nudging the box of tissues closer, should I need them, John looks me directly in the eye. "What is it that _you_ want, Christian?" He keeps eye contact with me until I respond.

"I want Ana back." My voice is soft but there is a ring of conviction in my words. My fingers are clawing at the arm rest and Flynn notices this, his sharp blue eyes are missing nothing.

John nods his head and starts writing in his notebook. "I see. Christian, on a scale from one to ten, how do you rate your mood from when Ana left to now?" He is looking at me, his soft eyes waiting for my answer.

I inhale sharply, thinking that this dumb question has too obvious an answer, but I respond anyway. "Christ, John, it's killing me. I'm a mess. I can't think straight." My tone is almost snappish, but I rein it in. "I'd say my mood is a three on your scale."

John chuckles, "First of all, it's _your_ scale," and then he continues, his tone more sober. "That is to be expected and normal, especially after a romantic loss." He then states slowly, "I want to step back a moment and look at one of your successes. All of your life you have never had anything but BDSM relationships. Christian, you should be proud of your progress. You may have lost Ana now, but remember that you have surpassed your initial pursuits from having only BDSM relationships to wanting one of a loving boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. Surely you can see your growth and change."

I am genuinely surprised. I have never thought about it this way before. There's always been that unknown 'something' about Ana that has always called out to me on some subconscious level. I always wanted her and had to have her, but I couldn't always pinpoint why. I look to John and see the agreement in his eyes.

It's time to gather my courage. I decide that it is time to tell him what I did. Time to tell him of my disgrace. "John, I am sitting here telling you that I want Ana back, but yet I called for a sub on Sunday night." I am looking at him looking for forgiveness or understanding. My eyes are imploring.

John sits back, I think trying to hide the surprise in his eyes. "Christian, It is not a method in this type of therapy to interpret or judge your actions, but I will still ask some questions so we can look at this logically." He pauses, "What do you think was the stresser that caused you to call out for a sub?"

"I was so angry and so hurt, John. I found Ana's Blackberry and listened to a voicemail left from another man. I was overly jealous and reacted without thought." I feel my pulse quickening just by saying these words.

"Okay, so the sub came."

"Yes."

"And you had time to pause and reflect on what you were doing?"

"Yes. I almost did stop it. Deep down I was pleading for any signs from Ana to save me from my actions, but there were none."

"How did that make you feel—knowing that Ana is in the same city but is not making an effort to contact you—or as you say 'save you from your actions'?" John is patiently awaiting my answer. He takes a sip of tea while I gather my words.

I swallow back the lump in my throat. "I felt so lost then, John—I still do. She cut the ties so cleanly that all I feel is constant grief."

John nods, making another jot in his notepad. "Okay, back to Sunday night. The sub is in your playroom. I am assuming in the submissive pose. What then? What did you feel?"

Anxious, I jump up from the couch and walk to the window. I lean in and look down at the wakening Seattle streets below. "John, the first thing I noticed was the orange-scented cleaner used to clean and polish the room. It was always the smell of familiarity. The smell that anchored me to a place of comfort and of control. But it also brought the burning images of Ana—and its pain-twisting memories of her leaving—to the forefront of my mind. I was hating myself, John. I ignored Ingrid. She could have been anyone from a number of countless subs whom I've hired in the past. She was just an empty vessel. A convenient and faceless body. I ignored her and put music on. I struck her only once with the cane and when she screamed I dropped it and yelled for her to leave. I became physically sick and passed out." I am looking down at my shaking hands. Turning around, I whisper, "John, I called her Ana."

John pauses and takes a sip of tea. "So you didn't engage in sexual intercourse then?" John starts writing again in his notebook.

I come back to the couch and resume sitting. "No," I snort. "I could barely look at her. I barely touched her. I pulled her braid, tied a scarf over her face and struck her only once. That was it. But I do feel as though I have been unfaithful to Ana. I know we are estranged, but I can't help but to feel that way." I shake my head, trying to shake out my feeling of disgust.

"Christian, I want to let you know that I am very proud of you." John takes a sip of his tea and continues. "You are an angry twenty-seven year old man who has been in a BDSM relationship since the age of fifteen. That is almost half your life." He is peering at me, ensuring that I have his full attention. He also notes the look of confusion in my eyes. "It is not inconceivable that you resorted back to what you know. I am not at all surprised that you called for a sub. In fact, with your past methods of coping, one would have expected this reaction from you. That method is how you always coped with that crap-hand you were dealt in life. But the real and exciting change is how you dealt with it afterward. You stopped, Christian. You realized what you were doing, you knew that you didn't want it anymore and that it was now something 'wrong'. You knew that this was something that went against every fibre of your being. This went against your goals. You should be very proud of yourself." He nods reassuringly.

"Goals?" I am almost stammering.

"Yes, goals. You stated that you want Ana back. That is your goal. It took Ana leaving you to kick-start you into seeing what you truly want, which is a healthy and loving relationship with her. This was the one thing you needed to get you to take this form of therapy seriously. Now, you just need a way to start implementing it."

I look at John. I smile and feel somewhat giddy and light-headed. I feel like we are getting somewhere.

"Christian, I need you to tell me on a scale of one to ten, if the playroom was no longer there how would you cope with that?"

"John, I want to say 'I don't know' but I really think I do. When I went into the playroom and was disgusted with all that transpired I became sick. I still can't go near that room without getting nauseous. I truly feel remorseful. I think I would rate that a five." I shudder at this subliminal memory.

"This playroom, is it no longer a third person in your relationship then?" John asks quizzically.

_What? _"How do you mean—a 'third person' in my relationship?"

"It's fairly simple. What I mean is, that for so long you have identified yourself as a Dom and you keep a room for BDSM activities. This room has taken on its own persona. This room has its own identity. You too, have tied your own identity to that room. You've lived and breathed that room. And with Ana briefly in the picture, one of those two have become a 'third' in that relationship. And with what you've just stated of the playroom it is now causing you only disgust. You eschew from nearing or entering that room. It now contains bad memories—instead of pleasurable ones." I close my eyes, his words imbuing themselves into my mind. _I wonder if it is possible to feel disemboweled and disembodied at the same time..._

I stare at John. He has said so much. So much that I need to weed through and ponder. There is almost no more room in my head to contain all that he is saying.

"Christian, the dynamics of that room has shifted. You must clearly see it now for what it is—this room is no longer your safety-net. You cannot expect to blend Ana and the room together and expect instant success. It is now an interloper into the healthy relationship that you crave with Ana. It may soon be time to divorce yourself from it." John shrugs and stares into my eyes.

I stare at him dumbfounded. John sees my reaction and grins.

John continues, "Christian, It is not unfair or unreasonable for Ana to not want only a BDSM relationship with you, isn't it? She was you first—and only—non BDSM lover, and if you want to win her back, you must fore go the more extreme aspects of that style of relationship. I think that this is a realistic expectation from Ana, don't you agree?" John states simply.

"John, I am so frightened. I am exposing myself to severe pain if she rejects me again. I never want to feel that way again." My voice is almost a whisper. Knots are forming in my stomach and I grip the armrest again.

"Yes, you could be facing more pain, but she could also be your salvation. How would you feel if she agreed to come back? What would your scale look like if she was back in your life?" He asks pointedly.

My eyes close. I am enjoying the brief but fleeting feeling of butterflies in my stomach. I open my eyes and John catches my smile. "I'll take that as a good thing." John chuckles, reaching for his tea. "What is another fear you think may stop you from pursuing Ana and succeeding in a long and happy future with her?"

His question brings me up short and kills the little happy feeling that I just had. "John, I can never tell her the truth. The truth to why I only want brunettes. She would leave me if she ever knew the reason." I blanch at my words. I silently will them not to be true.

"Christian, remember that we need to take baby-steps. We can cross that bridge when we come to it. Where is your anxiety on the scale if you do tell her the truth compared to the scale if you do not immediately tell her? Also, how would you feel if you never had to tell her?" John picks up his teacup, but grimaces when he sees that it is empty. "Would you be okay to live with yourself day-to-day without her knowing that part about you?" He pauses, allowing me to digest what he just said. "I don't want you to respond now, I just want you to think about these questions and we can discuss them on the next appointment."

I am shocked. "I just don't want to ever keep truths from her." John cocks his head to one side, registering my reaction.

"Not telling her everything about you is not lying. If you feel the need that you must tell her everything, then you must face the consequences of those actions—both by hers and by yours." John looks at me seriously. "Christian, I am not implying to be deceitful with Ana. I am simply trying to put forth what you want to do in relation to what will best meet your needs in meeting with your goals. Remember, I cannot tell you what to do. I can only guide you based on what answers you give me."

"It would be easier if you could tell me what to do. You are one of the few people that I _will_ listen to." I mutter and John chuckles.

"Christian, we are nearing the end of our session, but I quickly want to go back to what happened with you and Ana in the playroom. I understand that in BDSM arrangements there are safe-words. I assume that Ana used a safe-word to stop the punishment."

I gasp. It never occurred to me that Ana did not try to stop me. "John, she said nothing... No safe-word. She did not stop me." My heart is racing and I feel sick. _Why_ _could she not have safe-worded? _"My Lord, John, would we have been in this mess if she safe-worded?" I feel like my blood has drained from my face and pooled in my chest. My heart is racing to a sluggish beat.

"I'm afraid that this is a discussion that you need to have with Ana. I cannot answer this for you," John states. I see the look in his eyes, not pity—but one of perhaps slight failings. "Christian, I know how your reacting to Ana leaving must make you feel like you are a failure. But please don't feel that way. I want you to take what we have discussed here today as a victory. You have made great strides today, Christian. You faced a terrible blow and you overcame it with grace and you grew from that experience. I am so very proud of you." He smiles at his revelation. "I think Ana has had more impact and more influence on your progress in so short a time, than I have in the two years that I have been seeing you." John glances at his watch, but then continues. "Earlier you stated that Ana loves you. Have you told her how _you _feel?" He smiles, awaiting my answer.

"Not in so many words, but I can't say them to her yet. She should know by my actions. Jesus, I flew three thousand miles to be with her in Georgia. I even offered to rip up the contract." I pause, desperately wanting to finish. "John, I want her any way I can get her. She is above all rules for me."

John smiles, but I interrupt him before he can retort. "I am not lost to the irony that Ana is above all rules for me," I quip.

"Are you saying that you love her?" John challenges.

"I don't know _what_ I am saying." I state, but a little too fast for my liking.

John winks his blue eyes, "Christian, my professional opinion aside, I think you do." With that said, he stands and heads to his door.

I am feeling less subdued, and even slightly refreshed after that session. I decide that I would try light banter with him to show him that I am in a positive mood and want to follow through with his advice. "John, you are a Brit so I know that you will get this pop culture reference—'The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!'" I laugh and catch Flynn smirking as I leave his office.

I meet Taylor in the outer office. I glance at my Blackberry and note that I have been with John for over an hour. I am usually mentally drained after his sessions, but I also feel good; kind of spirited, but in a funny way. I also now know that I have made a small goal: I need to email Ana regarding Jose's Art Exhibit.

Taylor and I head to G.E.H.. The adrenaline rush that I had earlier has waned and now I feel like I can sleep forever, but I know that I have plans to make. I page Andrea. "Get me Jerry Roach, the Head of SIP on the line." Andrea buzzes my phone moments later, indicating that I am connected in a conference call with Jerry and the other Heads of SIP. I simply state, "Come to my office at one p.m." But there is menace in my words. The responses are surprised shouts or silence from the other lines. They eventually acquiesce and agree to meet at my office.

My phone alerts me and I see an update from Sawyer:

**08:25 subject hails cab outside**

**residence. Arrives SIP 08:40**

**Will maintain surveillance**

**at same location.**

**Sawyer**

I wonder what made her late. I know I shouldn't obsess over her, but it's not hard to when she can get flustered so easily. She is usually so calm in the strangest circumstances. She did not run to the hills when she learned of my penchant for BDSM, but she gets so nervous and flustered for the simplest things—things that make no sense to me.

The morning goes pretty quickly. I catch up on email, phone calls, and meetings that I neglected yesterday. I still have to run my empire. I chuckle to myself. I am grooming Ros, my Right Hand, to start taking more of an active role. She knows where all the 'fingers in the pie' are and is adept at her job. It also doesn't hurt that I am comfortable with her company. It is obvious to why she is the only woman who doesn't fawn over me. It is refreshing. I sigh, glad for this small blessing at least.

I go to the conference room. Jerry Roach and the other Heads of SIP are sitting and waiting. Andrea has provided refreshments and a platter of sandwiches at the far end of the room. I immediately get to the point. "I want to buy SIP."

The look on each of the Board member's face range from outright rage, to shock, and some of utter disbelief. I continue, "And, if you don't sell, I will buy the other three publishing houses, amalgamate them and force you under. It's up to you." I stare into every one of their faces. They can see that I mean business. Jerry asks, "What interest have you in SIP. Why do you need it?" _Bold statement, I'll give him that_. "My reasons are my own, and are not pertinent at this time." I state slowly, making sure I have everyone's attention. This is a trick I learned from Flynn. _This is another testament to the positive influence that Flynn has on me._ I smirk.

"You have twenty-four hours to decide."With a flourish I usher them from my conference room; some pissed and the rest flummoxed. They know that they have been dismissed.

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**A/N**: Woo! This took a while to write! I wanted to stop there as it is a bit of a cliff-hanger.

Also, I received a request from Ready (Guest) stating that my style of short stories would lend perfectly to writing a grave site fan fic story. I agree wholeheartedly! I was getting worried that I did not have anything to write after this is done and now Ready gave me an option! (Have no fear, this current story will be completed, as I have all of the days posted to bristol board and I even have most of the epilogue written. So, suffice it to say, that this story will have completion!)

You also may all be getting sick of seeing music in every chapter. Because there was mention of music in all three Fifty books, I think that it is symbolic. I think that it is appropriate that I too, add music. It is also telling from Christian's point as he sends Ana the iPad, filled 'with the music on here says it for me'.


	4. Chapter 4

Welcome to Chapter 4! There is one final chapter and an epilogue before this story finishes. This has been a swell ride! Chapter 5 will ramp up and blend with the existing storyline. (I like having five chapters as five is my favorite number as well as it matches the title name. Although the span of this story is actually about five and a half days... that would just mess the title up! LOL!)

I'd also like to thank all of the new readers and reviewers liking and following my story! It means a lot to me. I'm glad this story seems to be well-received by many. At first this writing was my catharsis, but I feel like I am enjoying this too much to stop at only two stories!

p.s. Researching contracts and Seattle Law practices sucked. ***hands in the air*** No offense to any law practitioners who may read this story—but it was dull as dishwater! I am sooooo glad that this was such a small part of the story!

p.p.s. I don't have anyone but myself to edit/correct my work. So I apologise, and any mistakes are my own! **Also see notes at end to explain this chapter. It would save on all the hate mail! LOL**

p.p.p.s I won't get chapter five out as fast as the other chapters have been popping out; I recently was accepted in an intensive 14 week training program where I will have to study for real! No more lazing around at the library on Unemployment benefits! I promise that I will try to get the finale of this story out as fast as I can. It is just so hard blending the stories together; I have only Ana's verbal and mental cues to gauge Christian's behavior in the book. So I mentally have to read each line to guess how Christian will react.

As always, read, and enjoy! **=) **

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**Tuesday, June 7, 2011 Early afternoon**

I leave the conference room feeling dominant. There is a wicked smile on my face and I can't help but feel like things are falling into place. I already had Andrea send the Letter of Intent to the SIP heads. Ros is awaiting acknowledgment that the letters have been received.

I review my missed messages, knowing that I should receive one from Sawyer. I locate his and open it:

**13:05 Subject heads to coffee shop.**

**No food purchased. Only soda. **

**Returns to SIP 13:09**

**Sawyer**

Again, she is not eating. I really want her to eat, but I cannot control this. I am powerless to control anything having to do with Ana at the moment—aside from her safety. It is a helpless feeling; a bitter pill that I cannot swallow with ease. I close my eyes and shake my head slowly; willing her with all my might that she hear my silent pleas for her to eat.

Amid reviewing the Purchase of Business Agreement and other contract details that my lawyers had written up for the SIP takeover, Andrea buzzes my intercom. "Mr. Grey, Mrs. Elena Lincoln is here to see you." I sigh and look at my appointments. She is not scheduled in for any meeting today. I know that I have silent partnership in the salons, but any meetings with that business I usually conduct at her main salon. I dislike the intrusion, but I am curious for the reason of her visit. I advise for Andrea to show Elena in. Andrea nods and closes the door behind her as she exits.

Elena traipses across my office, wearing a large smile and a trench coat. It is early June and I am taken aback to why she has a long jacket on such a nice day. "Christian," she purrs and bites her lower lip, "I was in the neighbourhood and I thought I'd stop by." She glances at the papers across the desk as she leans to sit on the edge of my desk. She picks up my glider model from its stand and haphazardly sets it on a bookshelf. I give her a glare and gather my papers; sweeping them into a pile. I take the papers and insert them into a drawer. I state slowly, "What is it I can do for you?" I am wary because I have a bad feeling about this visit. She kicks her bent knee forward and through the slit in the coat I see a bare thigh peeking through above her high black leather boots. She catches my glance and smiles her wicked grin. I know this wicked grin on an all too intimate level.

Elena takes her hands and with impressive dexterity, starts unbuttoning her trench coat. She pulls the sash and reveals underneath a black vinyl bustier and matching panties. She is also wearing garters attached with little skull buttons with tiny pink bows to her black silk stockings. She is leaning over me, taking two fingers to complete a slow and sensuous walk starting and from my wrist and stopping at my cheek. I am incredulous. I push back in my chair and allow her to see the shock and mortification in my face. "Elena, I think you should stop now to avoid any further embarrassment." I state as calmly as I can. I am slightly repulsed and I really am starting to wish that I had not allowed her into my office. I scrunch my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I grasp at any words I can say to make this awkward situation any less painful. "I am flattered, to say the least. But please, it cannot be this way. You know that what we had is in the past—and has been for a long time, and that your visit is inappropriate." I wave my hand in the direction of her body, indicating her attire as well as her intention.

I look at her shocked expression and see the quick sting of rejection in her eyes. Elena quickly removes her hand and pushes herself away from my desk and steps back a few paces. She pulls her coat back on to her shoulders and gives me a cold glare. "You've never refused my advances before, Christian, why now the sudden change?" Her voice is indignant. She quickly does up the buttons and ties her sash. She cannot maintain her cold glare for long and I see that look melt into one of pain.

"First of all, it has been several years since we have been in any type of physical relationship, and secondly, you have Isaac." I say soothingly. "How do you think he would feel if he found out about your visit?" I speak these words softly, as I would be when consoling a small child. "Also, you may have also deduced that Ana and I are apart; a mistake that I hope to soon rectify." My voice is direct but I need to stress how imperative it is that she takes this ridiculous pursuit no further. Elena spits out, "It's always going to be _Ana_ now, isn't it?" I rise from my chair and slowly approach her. "Elena, please do not take this so bad." I pause and take a much needed breath. "I have a modicum of hope that I can get Ana back, but I also need you to remember that you and I now have a nice and prosperous business relationship as well as a good friendship. We don't want to jeopardize that, don't we?" Elena takes steps forward and tries to embrace me. I deftly manoeuvre from her arms and put my hand on her shoulder, keeping her at a comfortable distance. Elena catches this, knowing this was to soften the blow of yet another rejection.

Elena laughs shakily and takes a deep breath. "I apologize, Christian. I really don't know what came over me. Please can we pretend and forget that this ever happened." I see the look of embarrassment and possibly shame in her eyes. But like Elena is, she tries to brush things off in a way that she only can. I reassure her, "It's forgotten already, Elena. I do thank you for your visit, but I really must get back to work." This is an 'out' that I hope she takes me up on.

Gathering her purse, Elena turns to leave, not before I catch the tearful and angry look in her eyes. I hear the soft thud of the door closing behind her. Seeing that I am now alone, I gently take my glider and set it back to its intended position on my desk.

_What the hell was all that about? She has never behaved this way in the past, but yet she seems awfully attentive lately... Not since Ana came into and out of my life. I just don't want to see her stir up trouble with Ana, but Elena is classier than that. She wouldn't dare..._

I get an email from Ros, stating that Roach wants me to go to SIP to go over the specifics and generalities on the Letter of Intent. I agree, stating that she and our lawyers are to attend this meeting. I bring the full contract with the Purchase of Business Agreement papers.

At 3 p.m. we arrive at SIP. I am hoping to see Ana, but yet I know I can't see her—and she definitely cannot see me because I cannot let her know what I am up to. She would get angry. She wouldn't know what business brings me to SIP, and I think her most obvious guess is that I was here to see her. She knows of my 'stalker abilities' and I guess that she would find this gesture most unamusing and most unwanted today.

We are nearing the end of our meeting. Their lawyers are reviewing the contract papers and agree to peruse them and sign within end of business Thursday. We exit, and on our descent in the elevator, the door opens on a lower floor, letting passengers on and off. I briefly see Ana (and I know my time to see her may only be ten seconds or so) stopped in this hallway, carrying a load of files. My sudden jolt of happiness dies a premature death. She looks so tired and there are dark rings under her eyes. _Baby, please, please, eat and get some sleep for me._ I know she cannot see me as I surreptitiously hide behind another passenger. However; I glimpse a man leering at her from behind. _I know this look._ _It is the look of a predator._ I turn to Roach and ask him nonchalantly who that man was. I point to the man I am indicating. "Oh, that is Jack Hyde, one of our editors." _Oh, _is_ he now..._ I just wish that I got a closer look at him. I am swallowing my anger and Taylor looks alertly at me. His eyes stray from me and land on Ana. He too, can see this. The elevator doors slide shut and the elevator once again descends. My hands are claws under my folded suit jacket.

We exit SIP and I see that it is past 4:00 p.m.. I instruct Taylor to head back to Escala. It is late, and after unwanted advances from Elena, the stressful and mind-numbing contract negotiations, and having that Jack Hyde person leer at Ana, I just want to call it a day. But before going home, I direct Taylor to go to the Apple store on University Village. I purchase an iPad for Ana, but then I decid on one for myself too.

I am finishing my dinner of baked tilapia and rice that Gail has prepared. She smiles at me, but sometimes I feel that there is more meaning there. I can't quite place it. I am too tired to analyse any of this now. My phone rings and I answer. It is Welch. "There is no solid location to her whereabouts, Mr. Grey." I know that he is doing his best to locate Leila. "Keep me posted and alert me immediately when you find her." I punch 'end call' on my phone and toss it on the table. Leila is proving to be very evasive. She needs to be found and cared for. We need to find her.

I glance at my Blackberry and get the usual update from Sawyer:

**17:37 Subject leaves SIP.**

**Took city bus. Arrived**

**home at 18:15. Will **

**maintain surveillance**

**until lights out.**

**Sawyer**

It is reassuring to have him watching Ana. After seeing that man leer at _my_ Ana, I know I have to protect her more than ever. I have already reviewed all Due Diligence processes for buying SIP. Regardless of what is discovered in due diligence, it's findings pale into comparison and have no affect in my decisions for buying SIP. I know the company is on the verge of stagnating; so SIP can see my purchase offer as a good thing. They should see me as a White Knight. Instead they view me as a corporate shark. I am not going to make drastic changes nor have plans for redundancy. _So I am the White Knight._

After such a long and trying day I change into pyjama bottoms and head off to the piano. This should subdue me until my constant night terrors come.

**Wednesday, June 8, 2011 early morning**

I wake early from my nightly parasomnia—the events so regular that it is like having an annoying cousin that you can't shake, but you have to accept his presence all the same. An image surfaced of when I slept—actually did sleep—with Ana for the first time at the Heathman hotel. She was inebriated and had passed out. I put her to bed and watched her sleep. I too, think that I slept nightmare-free that evening. I had never been that relaxed with anyone before, nor have I ever shared a bed with anyone.

I get into work after 8 a.m. and I know that I have to follow through with my earlier goal of emailing Ana. According to Sawyer's intel, Ana has not been anywhere besides home and work. She has not purchased a car with the funds from selling Wanda. (I know this for certain as my bank records do not reflect a withdrawal of twenty-four thousand dollars.) This may be the perfect subject for the email communication that I want to start with her. I do receive Sawyer's text update and all seems well with Ana... well more like as good as status quo can get.

After a long day of meetings, reviewing the SIP contracts and eating a quick lunch I see that it is after 2 p.m. It is time to implement action for my goals. I close my eyes and think hard to how I am going to break the ice. I had wanted to ask her earlier if she liked the flowers, but it made more sense to wait until now. I couldn't go jumping in head-first on Monday. I was too raw then. I send this as my ice-breaker:

**From**: Christian Grey

**Subject**: Tomorrow

**Date**: June 8, 2011 14:05

**To**: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia,

Forgive this intrusion at work. I hope that it's going well. Did

you get my flowers?

I note that tomorrow is the gallery opening for your friend's

show, and I'm sure you've not had time to purchase a car,

and it's a long drive. I would be more than happy to take

you—should you wish.

Let me know.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I am on tenterhooks. I have no idea how she is going to respond. She may rent a car. She may bow out of the exhibit and not go at all. I can only hope that she responds favorably, or even responds to me at all. Twenty minutes later I get a response. I am excited—but fearful too, as I cannot bear for her to say no.

**From**: Anastasia Steele

**Subject**: Tomorrow

**Date**: June 8, 2011 14:25

**To**: Christian Grey

Hi Christian,

Thank you for the flowers; they are lovely.

Yes, I would appreciate a lift.

Thank you.

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

_Oh my God, Oh my god! _There is a spark of hope in my heart. My heart was left in a pile of ashes and has not beaten a regular rhythm since she left me. I am exuberant like a kid in a sweets shop. I can't get this stupid grin off my face. I am just glad that there is no one here to see me like this. I need to contain myself! Wait—I have no idea when to collect her. I email her again:

**From**: Christian Grey

**Subject**: Tomorrow

**Date**: June 8, 2011 14:27

**To**: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia,

What time shall I collect you?

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I am starting to enjoy this email banter—well not really banter as such, but I still get to communicate with her. I just can't wait to hear her voice in person. Her reply arrives five minutes later:

**From**: Anastasia Steele

**Subject**: Tomorrow

**Date**: June 8, 2011 14:32

**To**: Christian Grey

José's show starts at 7:30. What time would you suggest?

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

I read and reread these emails. I don't understand why her responses are so short. They are not quite terse, but Ana has always been so much more expressive in email communications. That is the only way that I found her to freely and honestly express herself. I remember the emails that we shared when she was heading to Georgia. Those few emails expressed more in type-form than her lips could ever do. I make a mental note that if we ever get back together that she will have to learn how to communicate with me more openly and honestly. I chuckle, _another goal I've just set. _I respond to her next email:

**From**: Christian Grey

**Subject**: Tomorrow

**Date**: June 8, 2011 14:34

**To**: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia,

Portland is some distance away. I shall collect you at 5:45.

I look forward to seeing you.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I attempt to keep my emails from sounding mushy, but I can't help but to add that I am excited to see her. I still wonder if she misses me. I have the feeling that she too, is feeling the impact of our break-up. Seeing her yesterday tore at my heartstrings. She looked like she was in so much pain. I never want to see her looking that sad again. My newest goal is that I want to only see her smile. _Wow, aren't I the avid goal-maker today? _I get the ping alert of her next email:

**From**: Anastasia Steele

**Subject**: Tomorrow

**Date**: June 8, 2011 14:38

**To**: Christian Grey

See you then.

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

I cannot explain how each email she sends me is shorter and more vague that the one before it. I get the impression that she doesn't want to see me, but then why accept my offer to accompany her there? She simply can refuse my offer—not that I want her too, of course—but is she simply trying to be nice? Maybe she doesn't want to keep hurting my feelings. _Maybe she truly wants to see you too... One can only hope._

I come off my 'email high' and notice in her email signature that she is Jack Hyde's assistant. This thought has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. According to Roach, this is the name of the man that I saw leering at Ana. And because she had her back to him, she had no idea that she was being watched by that sleaze ball. I am feeling sick and angry. My jaw is aching from clenching it so hard. The thought of _him_ even near Ana is unpalatable. Have mercy on him if he ever touches her... _I may have Sawyer move to the lobby of SIP instead of the coffee shop._

I call Roach. "I want access to the SIP servers by start of business tomorrow. I know that the contract is not officially signed yet, but I cannot stress enough that I want this done. ASAP. I want to start immediate personnel and background checks on all employees." Roach agrees to my demand and gives me the contact information for the SIP IT team. _Smart decision, Roach_.

I call Taylor and advise him that I am leaving work early. He meets me in my office and we head back to Escala. I am too overwrought and I can't wait to get access to the SIP servers so that I can have Hyde investigated. I call Barney and give him the SIP IT team contact information. At 8:00 a.m. tomorrow I want access and the ball rolling on this immediately.

Once inside Escala, I head into my room to get the iPad I bought for Ana. I unpack her iPad and hug it tight to my chest. I know this is a sentimental gesture, but I want to tell her what I feel; even if I can't say the words myself. After activating the device from my PC, I start with the photo of my glider that she gave me. I set this up as the wallpaper image. I then add the photograph of us at Ana's graduation as the background image. I go through iTunes and purchase the app for the British Library. I know that she will love this. I chuckle as I add an app for 'good food'. I think she would roll her eyes at this. _Oh, what images she evokes when she does that... _I then purchase a list of songs that we have played in the playroom, but I also add a list of love songs that I like. I write her a note, letting her know how I feel:

**Anastasia-This is for you.**

**I know what you want to hear.**

**The music on here says it for me.**

**Christian**

Gail alerts me that dinner is ready. I eat in pleasant silence as Gail and Taylor are in their own side of the apartment. I am so lucky to have hired Gail. She is loyal and discreet. (She also makes one mean chicken pot pie.) I also think about my good luck in finding Taylor too, as he is an indispensable employee; one I trust more than anyone.

Later I am finishing with emails, call returns, and updates from Sawyer, Gail enters the great room. She is hesitant to speak, but she then quietly states, "My Grey, I was just dusting the sub's—I mean the spare bedroom upstairs and notice that the clothes that were for Ana are still there. I need to know what you want done with them. Would you like me to have them returned?"

I am verklempt. I had forgotten about them. I had them delivered before she came back from Georgia. I am lost for words. "Gail, please leave them." I am struggling for words. "I will see to them." Gail nods and leaves me to my solitude. I sit for a while, but I am too compelled; the spare room has an invisible thread pulling me toward it. I stand up and grab Ana's iPad. I slowly climb the stairs and follow the narrow hallway to the bedroom door. I enter the room with ambivalence. Gail has left the closet door open. I see all manner of clothes. I had not picked them out personally, I had Caroline Acton do this for me. I tend not to want to dress women; only to simply _undress_ them. I start to slide my fingers over the fabrics. I can imagine Ana in these designs. There are silk nightgowns that are calling for my attention. Ana looks so beautiful in my T-shirts, but I can imagine how sublime she would be wearing these. She would look like an actress from the silent movie era.

I am under a deluge of emotion. The past few days were charged with static electricity and they barreled into today like an unmanned locomotive. I sink to the floor at the end of the bed, facing all of these clothes that Ana never got to wear. I snort, aware that I am brooding. I open the iPad and open up the music app. I tap a song listing and a soft and sensuous song plays:

... To pretend no one can find

the fallacies of morning rose

Forbidden fruit, hidden eyes

courtesies that, I despise in me

Take a ride, take a shot now

'Cause nobody loves me, it's true

Not like you do

... Covered by the blind belief

that fantasies of sinful screens

Bear the facts assume the dye,

end the bows no need to lie enjoy

take a ride, take a shot now

'Cause nobody loves me, it's true

Not like you do

... Who am I, what and why?

'Cause all I have left is my memories of yesterday,

oh these sour times

'Cause nobody loves me, it's true

Not like you do

... After time the bitter taste

of innocence descent or race

Scattered seed, buried lives

mysteries you learnt disguised revolve

circumstance will decide

'Cause nobody loves me, it's true

Not like you do...

This song is calling out to me. The lyrics scream passages that resemble my cloistered life—my BDSM life. Once Ana likened my life to one of an 'ivory tower'. I couldn't agree more with her, but I so want to change and share my life with her. Fat tears roll down my cheeks and I can't seem to impede their progress. I allow them passage; these tears a testament of my pain. Each new tear falls, creating a splash pattern on my hollow chest. I crawl up unto the bed. She has slept here only briefly; the last was the early morning when she ran from me. I stroke the covers hoping to feel Ana there. I lay in this slowly darkening bedroom; the song plays on repeat. I sit and think of the devastation I feel with Ana gone. _Why can't I say what I feel? _She told me that she loves me—verbally and in her sleep. Why did I shun her love?

I have so much self-loathing that I cannot accept that I am loved—or that Ana loves me. I so want to believe her. I swallow back the lumps in my throat and drift off, listening to the song that gives me a tiny grain of hope.

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**A/N**: special thanks to SRBT, Ready, BnSA, byoungrn, peachesgo and all others! Mind you, BnSA, you keep up with the flattery and we will have to start looking at china patterns! LOL** =) **

Also, song is SourTimes, another title from Portishead.

p.s. 'skull buttons with tiny pink bows' is my cute reference to Monster High, as I am a fan! LOL

**The info below is to prevent hate mail! LOL!**

I know you folks are groaning at seeing Elena back in the chapters, but I promise that this is the last I will write of her. I thought long and hard about this. I needed to show her (future) motives. In the book, there is an unknown conversation between her and Christian at the salon. She seems to be mollifying him, but you can't be sure. She rubs his arm and bites her lip... (Grrr.) There is also the fake threats to Ana in the gala tent. The piece de la resistance is of course, at Christian's birthday party. I wanted this scene I added to be an omen for worse things to come. I also wanted to put Christian's thoughts in after she left the office because it shows his misplaced or misguided trust in her. (Bee-atch!)

I also put the 'ass-hat' Hyde in. This is mainly because Christian is so wary of him; especially at the bar. He senses Hyde's predatory nature. He states on Friday that Hyde wants into her panties. It is feasible that Christian had him thoroughly checked but could not take appropriate action. In the book this mentions prior knowledge: (Christian calling Roach: "Get him to clear his desk immediately... You already have all the justification you need to give him his pink slip...")

And BnSA, I too, get annoyed with Ana. She has issues of her own; her over-the-top insecurity for one. But I get mad when I read that no matter how much Christian tells her he loves her, in Darker, she starts doubting him. This example: when Leila is subdued at her apartment: "No! Suddenly I feel I'm the interloper, intruding on them as they stand gazing at each other. I'm an outsider—a voyeur, spying on a forbidden, intimate scene behind closed curtains." (GRRR! Ana, just give it up already!)

Her insecurity seems to wane at least in Freed. By then she has cojones!


	5. Chapter 5

***Drum roll* **Well here is the last chapter and the epilogue! It is a long time coming! On the last chapter I stated that it was plausible that Christian had Hyde investigated. In 'Freed' Christian states to Det. Clarke that he had Hyde investigated when Ana went to work at SIP. So I guess that this scene is definitely warranted! I wanted to start this chapter on Wednesday, March 27, but my laptop is dying. I had the next day off as well because of a huge blizzard. (Still have crapped out PC issue.) (Gotta love Canada in the Springtime!)*insert sarcasm here!* Again, (Now it's April 27th and I would like to thank guests, BnSA and Ready for their 'gentle nudging' at me to keep on track! )[I was a 'good girl' and spent Easter holiday—which included my birthday—getting a chunk of this done!]

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**Thursday, June 9, 2011**

I wake in Ana's—well not Ana's bedroom. The light is streaming in through the vast window. I am strewn across the bed and the iPad is open. The battery is low. I chuckle. Since Ana has left, I have awoken on splintered glass, in the playroom, on my sofa, and now in this room. I seem to recall only spending only two sleepless nights in my own bed. I lay for a moment longer, watching the curtains dance lazily in the slight breeze from the open window. It is a mesmerizing motion, almost like a ritual dance. Like two lovers embracing.

I glance at my watch and see that it is after 6 a.m. I groan and wipe my hand over my stubble and over my eyes. I inhale a deep breath and realize that I need to start my plan on how to make things right with Ana. Christ, I'm nervous as hell, but I am also aching to see her.

Getting up, I grab Ana's iPad and head to my room. I place her device to charge as I take my shower. The shower is the best place where I like to think. I probably make most of my business decisions in the shower. I close my eyes. The scalding water feels good on my back. Today is the day that I try to win Ana back. John and I have spoken of goals and that my main goal is to get Ana back. Well, time's come to implement it: Ana said she wants 'more'. Done. I will get her to clarify what 'more' is and what her needs and wants are. She will have to communicate them to me. I know that I will most likely have to offer the vanilla option first to get her to trust me—and to trust us. The simple decisions are sometimes the hardest to make: I want her back and I will sacrifice everything to get her. I want her any way that I can get her—even if my needs take a back seat.

In the kitchen Gail is doing the finishing touches on breakfast. She passes me the plate of scrambled eggs and toast. After I'm done eating, I ask Gail where the wrapping paper is kept. She cocks her head and smiles when she sees the iPad. She leaves the room and moments later, enters with a roll of beautiful thick silver wrap. She pulls scissors and clear tape from a utility drawer. Like choosing the flowers, I want to wrap this myself. I put the iPad and charger cord neatly back into the slim white box. I take the personalized note I had made earlier and slipped it between the glass and the case, ensuring that she will see the note when she opens the leather case. I close the iPad box and slide the wrap under it. I stare at this for a moment. This can't be too hard. I cut the paper to size, but I am dumbfounded where to go from here. I lift an end and loosely place it over the box, remove it and try the same with the other end of paper. _Christ, this is not rocket science_. I move the paper again. I slide my finger down and get a paper cut. _Jesus! How could something so small hurt so bad? Then I remember the small cuts from laying in glass. Those hurt too..._

"Shall I wrap this for you, Mr. Grey?" Gail asks, seeing my painfully obvious inexperience with wrapping. My hands are all thumbs and I can't seem to get a square corner on the paper. There is a trickle of blood from the cut and Gail hands me a small, clear bandage. I acquiesce and step away from the counter. I snicker. I guess that being a business mogul does not pull from a skill-set which includes gift wrapping. And here I thought that I could do everything... I apply the bandage while I watch Gail perform the most beautiful and precise wrapping. _Who even has the ability to put 'hospital corners' on a wrapped box? Apparently she can._

Gail smiles and passes me the box. I take it, the Blackberry and the MacBook Pro and insert them in a larger gift box.

It is now 7:00 a.m. I summon Taylor. "Please notify Sawyer that I will be keeping him on staff and to continue his surveillance on Ana." Taylor nods. "Also, we are leaving in ten minutes."

"Yes, sir."

We arrive at GEH well before usual time. It is now 8:00 a.m. and I call Barney to have him start the background checks. He has had no issue with SIP server access, and their IT team has been most cooperative with him. I tell him to start the search with Jack Hyde. He does not question why. He just does. _My best employees have this character trait. _

A while later I get my morning text from Sawyer:

**08:10 subject takes bus outside**

**residence. Arrives SIP 08:40**

**Will maintain surveillance**

**at same location.**

**Sawyer**

I text back, stating to resume surveillance until I pick Ana up from SIP. I advise him that she will be with me this evening and that he will be done early today. I sit back in my chair and kick my feet unto my desk. I close my eyes and afford myself a few minutes to relax and prepare for today's occasion.

I am startled by my phone. "Grey."

"Barney here. Just finished preliminary background check on Hyde. Pretty basic stuff so far."

"Well, give me what you have so far," I state, I need information now.

"Hyde started at SIP about seven years ago and began his career as assistant Copy-Editor. Moved to position of Editor almost three years ago. But here is the interesting thing, sir: He has had five PA's in under a two year calendar time span. I thought that you would want this information as soon as I had it. It only caught my attention because no other employee is running through that many assistants in such a short time."

"You're right, Barney. Have you been able to contact these past PA's?"

"Three, sir. The three we have been able to talk with all give the same story: They all say he was an exemplary boss, even though none of them lasted more than three months. They each refused to say anything more than that."

I nod my head. There has to be more this that we can't see or at least anything we can prove. I remember the way he leered at Ana in the hallway. Perhaps he is more the _physical_ type. "What about the other two PA's? What's the status on that?"

"They seem to be eluding our attempts at contact, sir. With your permission, I would ask that Welch assist me and get to the last two PA's."

"You got it. Keep me posted. I want this information by tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

I end the call. My gut instinct tells me Hyde is pulling a heavy hand at SIP and the PA's are either scared to speak or were paid-off. I don't have enough to go on—yet. So I will wait for the information as it comes clear. Information that is suspect, but inconclusive is the hardest to prove. _If this is the issue, I have to get Ana the hell away from him. _

The second-last big thing on my plate for today is next. We have to finalize the SIP legal purchase and get all of the documents signed. At 1:00 p.m. Ros, our team of over-priced, and Seattle's top lawyers, Taylor, and I, head over to Green House Korean restaurant to meet with Roach and the Heads of SIP for the contract signing. We agreed to meet in a neutral, but pleasantly public place. After all, this is a day to be celebrated.

I check my Blackberry and see a missed text from Sawyer:

**13:10 subject and another **

**female get take-out **

**at Colombian restaurant **

**'Mojito'- Arrives SIP 13:40**

**no food purchased. soda only**

**Sawyer**

At 4:00 p.m. Taylor and I head back to Escala. I needed to get away from the mirth-makers that generated after the contracts were signed. It was a huge purchase—both the SIP purchase and the meals that I treated everyone to. Who knew that once the stiffness of formality was tossed out, that the managers and the lawyers on both sides would stay and make merry? I snort. That was enough for me. I spent the entire time not wanting to throttle Roach into telling me everything he knows about Hyde—not that he knows anything, of course, but still. _I need to keep my Ana safe. _

At 5:30 p.m. we head out to meet Ana. I have one last look in the mirror. Gray suit, white shirt, no tie. I look like I always do. I smile. I never used to care about how I looked before. _And why am I behaving like a hormonal teen? _

We have been sitting idle here for what feels like a long time. I glance down at my watch and realize that we have only been here for about five minutes. I am beyond nervous and I fear how this night will turn out. I like control—and because I don't know what to expect—I disdain the unknown. It seems like these days—from the start of Ana leaving to now—have culminated into a great fiery ball of hopes and fears. I see the singed little wings of the butterflies that I have had since my appointment with John.

I have created a pattern; from glancing at the doors of SIP and then dropping down to my watch. I am about to start the process over again until I hear Taylor shift and exit the SUV. I shoot my head up and there I see her approaching us; a vision in plum. She is radiant beyond measure. She is wearing the same plum dress that she wore when she met me at the Heathman hotel when we went over the hard and soft limits. _She is radiant and I am glowing._

She enters the SUV and sits. I cannot hold back the scowl on my face. Her proximity cannot betray how haggard she really is. "When did you last eat?" I made sure that Taylor had shut the door before I spoke. She is looking worse now than when I saw her at SIP. She seems thinner and that dress no longer clings to her shape like it did before.

"Hello, Christian. Yes, it's nice to see you, too." Ana states, a bit too unctuous. Somehow this only sets off more anger and frustration. This is not a good way to start our reunion. "I don't want your smart mouth now. Answer me," I clip.

"Um... I had a yogurt at lunchtime. Oh—and a banana." I can see in the tired and hollow lines of her eyes that she is being sheepish, and perhaps a little guilty.

"When did you last have a proper meal?" She has been here for less than a minute and already I feel the need to bicker. Taylor slips into the driver's seat, starts the car, and pulls out into the traffic. Ana is waving at someone. I am offended that her attention is not with me. "Who's that?" I snap, but my eyes do not leave Ana.

"My boss."

"Well? Your last meal?" My mouth is set in a hard line. With the suspected behavior of Jack Hyde that was uncovered today I am at a loss—to either chastise Ana for not eating or to jump out of the SUV and confront Hyde. I decide that I can deal with Hyde later.

"Christian, that really is none of your concern."

"Whatever you do concerns me. Tell me." I am staring into Ana's face and I hear her groan as she rolls her eyes. This diffuses my tension. My lips curl into a trace of a smile. "Well?" I ask, much softer this time.

"Pasta alla vongole, last Friday," she whispers.

How this all hits me; my pain and her pain. I close my eyes and fury and possibly regret sting me. "I see." My voice is expressionless. "You look like you've lost at least five pounds, possibly more since then. Please eat, Anastasia," I scold.

I glance over at her. She is staring at her knotted fingers like an errant schoolgirl. But I have to keep telling myself that she is not a schoolgirl. She is a bright and beautiful woman. I shift and face her. "How are you?" I ask again, keeping that soft tone; an olive branch being offered.

She swallows. "If I told you I was fine, I'd be lying," she admits.

It dawns on me. Not thinking only of my pain—which Ana leaving was _my_ death sentence—but to understand that now I have a glimpse of how Ana has been feeling these days as well. Her tired eyes, the weight loss, and her wariness with me; these are signs of the same pain. I inhale sharply. "Me, too," I murmur and reach over to clasp her hand. "I miss you." Admitting this to her seems a necessary act; her touch a necessary bridge.

"Christian, I—"

"Ana, please. We need to talk."

"Christian, I... please... I've cried so much," Ana whispers. Her eyes are glassy and I know she is trying to keep her emotions at bay. She may not even realise that I still have her hand in mine.

"Oh, baby, no." I tug her hand and and her body follows, resting in my lap. I create a cage around her with my arms and I cannot help but to inhale her hair. She smells of rain and sunshine. I instantly feel her body heat through that thin dress and I fight the images of the last time I slid into her warm body. I shake my head and try to dislodge that memory. _I need to focus on the here and now. _"I've missed you so much, Anastasia," I breathe her in, like I breathe in her beauty. _If I can breathe enough of her in, she will remain._ She stiffens briefly, but I press her deeper into my chest and kiss her hair. If this is the closest I become with her this evening, I am willing to take these scraps. I kiss her hair over and over, not relinquishing my hold on her. _I will not let her go that easily again..._

A few minutes later we pull to a stop at the curb. "Come, we're here." I shift Ana off my lap, and I instantly feel the loss of her. _Another little sting_. _Another broken little butterfly... _Ana looks mildly confused. She must have forgotten that I offered to take us in Charlie Tango. "Helipad—on the top of this building." I glance toward the building.

Taylor opens the door and Ana slides out. He gives her a warm smile. "I should give you back your handkerchief." Ana smiles back.

"Keep it, Miss Steele, with my best wishes." Taylor states, warmly.

I reach her side and grasp her hand. It has been such a brief, but lonesome time without her touch. I heard and saw their exchange but Taylor is staring impassively, revealing nothing. "Nine?" I state, only because Taylor is loyal to me—and apparently now to Ana.

"Yes, sir."

I nod in agreement and lead Ana through the doors to the foyer. We reach the elevators and I press the call button. I swallow. The last time I walked Ana to an elevator it lead to her saying goodbye. I close my eyes and banish that thought. I pull in another elevator memory—when I threw caution to the wind and kissed her in the Heathman elevator. The doors open and I release her hand, ushering her in. The doors close and I catch her peeking at me. I feel the electricity between us. It's palpable. I can almost taste it, pulsing between us, drawing us together.

"Oh my," Ana gasps. She is not unaffected by this also.

"I feel it, too," I murmur. I clasp her hand and graze her knuckles with my thumb. "Please don't bite your lip, Anastasia. You know what it does to me." I stare at Ana esuriently, like she is the only item offered at a beggar's banquet. _I want her._

Abruptly the doors open, breaking the spell, and we're on the roof. I slide my arm around Ana and draw her in close to my side. We are hurrying to Charlie Tango where she sits in the middle of the helipad. My attendant jumps out to greet us.

"Ready to go, sir. She's all yours!"

"All checks done?"

"Yes, sir."

"You'll collect her around eight thirty?"

"Yes, sir."

"Taylor's waiting for you out front."

"Thank you, Mr. Grey. Safe flight to Portland. Ma'am." I nod and lead Ana to the door. She sits and I buckle her firmly into her harness and cinch the straps tight. A secret and knowing smile escapes. "This should keep you in your place," I murmur. "I must say I do like this harness on you. Don't touch anything." Seeing her crimson cheeks, I lean in and run my finger slowly down her cheek before I hand her the headphones. Her scent is overwhelming and it takes all my strength to pull away.

I enter Charlie Tango and buckle myself in. I put the headphones on before I run through the preflight checks. It seems so long ago that we flew in Charlie Tango. "Ready, baby?" I turn and gaze at her.

"Yes."

"Sea-Tac tower, this is Charlie Tango—Tango Echo Hotel, cleared for takeoff to Portland via PDX. Please confirm, over." I can't contain my foolish grin and I see that Ana sees it too.

"Roger, tower, Charlie Tango set, over and out." With clearance from the tower, I gently lift off. "We've chased the dawn, Anastasia, now the dusk." My foolish grin has turned into a huge smile and I can't but stare at her lips, slowly turning into a smile. "As well as the evening sun, there's more to see this time."

The last time we flew to Seattle it was dark, but this evening the view is spectacular. But this view pales in comparison to the beautiful woman at my side. "Escala's over there." I point toward the building. "Boeing there, and you can just see the Space Needle." I don't know why I feel the need to act as a tour guide, but I want this cabin free of silence and it only makes sense to point out landmarks.

"I've never been," Ana states plainly as she leans to the window.

"I'll take you—we can eat there." _Eat anywhere, please, just eat._

"Christian, we broke up," she declares.

"I know. I can still take you there and feed you." I glare at her. Her and her smart mouth. I am trying so hard to get this date right, and yet she has a way of making me... crazy.

"It's very beautiful up here, thank you." Ana's tone has changed and I think that she wants to try, too.

"Impressive, isn't it?" I try for normal conversation again.

"Impressive that you can do this."

"Flattery from you, Miss Steele? But I'm a man of many talents." _Except gift wrapping..._

"I'm fully aware of that, Mr. Grey." Her tone is dead-pan.

I smirk. The double entendre has caught me off guard. _My Ana does have a quick wit._ I try again with a change of subject. "How's the new job?"

"Good, thank you. Interesting."

"What's your boss like?" I ask only because of the alarming information that has been uncovered. Mostly speculation though, and the truth would be hard to prove. But still, this man is on my radar.

"Oh, he's okay."

I see her eyes pause and I know she is uneasy. "What's wrong?"

"Aside from the obvious, nothing."

"The obvious?" _Where is she going with this?_

"Oh, Christian, you really are very obtuse sometimes."

"Obtuse? Me? I'm not sure I appreciate your tone, Miss Steele."

"Well, don't then."

My lips twitch into a smile. "I have missed your smart mouth." I've missed _all_ of her.

Ana does not respond. She only stares out at the view.

The dusk has followed us from Seattle, and the sky is awash with opal, pinks, and aquamarines woven seamlessly together as only Mother Nature knows how. It's a clear, crisp evening, and the lights of Portland twinkle and wink, welcoming us as I set the helicopter down on the helipad. We land on top of the same brown brick building in Portland we left less than three weeks ago. I power down Charlie Tango, flipping various switches so the rotors stop, and eventually all we hear is our own breathing through the headphones. I unbuckle my harness and lean across to undo Ana's. "Good trip, Miss Steele?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Grey,"

"Well, let's go see the boy's photos." I hold my hand out to her and she takes it as she climbs out of Charlie Tango. A gray-haired man with a beard walks over to meet us, smiling broadly.

"Joe." I smile and release Ana's hand to shake Joe's warmly. "Keep her safe for Stephan. He'll be along around eight or nine."

"Will do, Mr. Grey. Ma'am," he says, nodding at me. "Your car's waiting downstairs, sir. Oh, and the elevator's out of order; you'll need to use the stairs."

"Thank you, Joe."

I taker her hand mine, and we head to the emergency stairs. "Good thing for you this is only three floors, in those heels," I mutter. These boots are extremely flattering on her but they are death traps.

"Don't you like the boots?" she asks innocently.

"I like them very much, Anastasia." My gaze darkens but I do not want to finish my lascivious thoughts. "Come. We'll take it slow. I don't want you falling and breaking your neck."

We sit in a chasm of silence as my driver takes us to the gallery. My anxiety has returned full force, and I realize that our time in Charlie Tango has been the eye of the storm. She sits in silence also. I stare out the window—despite the fact that I have not seen her face in almost six days (except for the brief SIP encounter) and longed to see her—I stare away. Our lighter mood from earlier has dissipated. There's so much I want to say, but this journey is too short. I can't read her, and I can't tell what she is thinking. This feeds into my inert feeling of helplessness.

"José is just a friend," Ana murmurs.

I turn to gaze at her. "Those beautiful eyes look too large in your face, Anastasia. Please tell me you'll eat."

"Yes, Christian, I'll eat," she answers automatically.

"I mean it." I am slightly irritated by her platitude.

"Do you now?" She states, but after pausing, she shakes her head.

Here goes: time to lay my cards on the table. "I don't want to fight with you, Anastasia. I want you back, and I want you healthy." I speak softly, willing her to accept my words without fear.

"But nothing's changed."

"Let's talk on the way back. We're here." The car pulls up in front of the gallery, and I climb out open the car door for Ana.

"Why do you do that?" Ana's tone is angry and accusatory.

"Do what?"

"Say something like that and then just stop."

"Anastasia, we're here. Where you want to be. Let's do this and then talk. I don't particularly want a scene in the street."

"Okay," Ana mutters sulkily. I take her hand and lead her into the building. We are in a converted warehouse—brick walls, dark wood floors, white ceilings, and white pipe work. It's airy and modern, and there are several people wandering across the gallery floor, sipping wine and admiring the artwork.

"Good evening and welcome to José Rodriguez's show." A young woman dressed in black with very short brown hair, bright red lipstick, and large hooped earrings greets us. She glances briefly at Ana, then much longer at me, then turns back to Ana. "Oh, it's you, Ana. We'll want your take on all this, too." Grinning, she hands Ana a brochure and directs us to a table laden with drinks and snacks.

"You know her?" I frown.

Ana shakes her head, seeming equally puzzled.

I shrug. "What would you like to drink?"

"I'll have a glass of white wine, thank you."

I furrow my brows, but I hold my tongue. Ana is opting for wine when she has had little to eat. I know how this will affect her. I remember that her empty stomach and booze was the catalyst that had her in my bed for the first time. I decide to head toward the bar.

"One white wine, please," I state to the bartender. As she is pouring the wine I look around and take in the crowd and the pictures. A soft voice floats behind me as the bartender hands me the wine.

"Lovely show, don't you think?" A short and slim woman stands beside me, a little too close for polite conversation with a stranger.

"I have just arrived, but yes, so far it is lovely," I state, trying to seem polite, but not to give the impression of wanting to take the conversation any further.

I realize that I have not seen Ana in a few moments. I scan the crowd for her and our eyes lock when I find her. That pull is there; our magnetism that time cannot erase nor lessen. I cannot pull my eyes away from her any more than we can pull time away from every moment.

She is with Jose. My back stiffens and I have to swallow the bile that is flowing in my mouth. She keeps insisting that he is a friend, but I saw how he was 'friend' to her when she was drunk that night. I see him kiss her cheek and she is watching him walk away. I must remember that there is a wineglass in my hands. No time for cuts and blood now.

The woman is about to speak again when I nod and walk away. I do not say goodbye. I know it was uncharacteristic of me to be so rude, but I need Ana. I join her and pass her the wineglass.

"Does it come up to scratch?"

I am not sure if she is referring to the wine or the artwork. She sees my confusion.

"The wine," she clarifies.

"No. Rarely does at these kinds of events. The boy's quite talented, isn't he?" I nod toward the lake photo.

"Why else do you think I asked him to take your portrait?" she states with pride. My eyes glide impassively from the photograph to Ana. My green-eyed monster is still there in the background waiting on every insecure moment. Does she like the photographer? She seems so proud of him and she allowed him to kiss her. I remember his offer of dinner from his voicemail and I wince. It is taking all my strength not to grab her and steal her away.

"Christian Grey?" The photographer from the Portland Printz approaches me. _Oh great, another photographer. This is getting redundant. _

"Can I have a picture, sir?"

"Sure." As I try to hide my scowl, Ana attempts to get out of frame. I grab her hand and pull her to my side. The photographer looks at both myself and Ana and can't hide his surprise.

"Mr. Grey, thank you." He snaps a couple of photos. He now turns to Ana. "Miss . . ?" he asks.

"Steele," she replies.

"Thank you, Miss Steele." He scurries off.

"I looked for pictures of you with dates on the Internet. There aren't any. That's why Kate thought you were gay," Ana states.

My mouth twitches into a smile. "That explains your inappropriate question. No, I don't do dates, Anastasia—only with you. But you know that." I stare into her eyes to show her my sincerity.

"So you never took your"—she glances around nervously to check no one can overhear us—"subs out?"

"Sometimes. Not on dates. Shopping, you know." I shrug but keep my eyes fixed to her. "Just you, Anastasia," I whisper. I catch her I blushing and staring down at her fingers again. I hope I am not hurting her in some way, but maybe she is remembering us and how it was.

"Your friend here seems more of a landscape man, not portraits. Let's look round." I hold my hand out to her and she accepts. I don't know if she notices how much I need to touch her. Only her touch is the balm that soothes me. She is open to touching, so I don't think that _my_ touch is unwanted.

We wander past a few more prints, and I notice a couple nodding at Ana, smiling broadly as if they know her. One man is blatantly staring at her. We turn the corner, and I can see why she's been getting

strange looks. Hanging on the far wall are seven huge portraits—of her. I am transfixed. I am outraged beyond all measures—so much that it escapes understanding—and this matter will have to be settled. "Seems I'm not the only one," I mutter. "Excuse me" I gaze into her eyes before I head toward the reception desk.

I fish out my credit card and hand it to the curator. "I want them all, and if possible, take them down, NOW," I snap.

She looks startled and stutters, "But s...sir, we cannot take them down until the exhibit finishes—"

"Fine," I snap, but I realize that I am being very unprofessional and I am taking out my jealousy and rage on her. I really should be taking it out on myself. She passes back my card and is about to give delivery instructions. I cut her off. "Contact me when the exhibit finishes. We'll discuss delivery then."

I head back to Ana as I see a man speak to her.

"Hey. You're the muse. These photographs are terrific." Ana seems startled, but I wrap my fingers around her elbow, alerting her to my presence.

"You're a lucky guy." Blond Shock smirks at me. I return with my coldest stare. _Get. Away. From. What. Is. Mine._

"That I am," I state each word coldly, as I pull Ana over to one side. I insert myself between them, giving him the obvious hint to move on. He does.

"Did you just buy one of these?"

"One of these?" I snort. I do not take my eyes off them.

"You bought more than one?" She seems mortified.

"I bought them all, Anastasia. I don't want some stranger ogling you in the privacy of their home."

"You'd rather it was you?" she scoffs.

Caught off by her audacity, my glare turns into amusement. "Frankly, yes."

"Pervert," she mouths at me. She is biting her lip. _Oh what images that invokes..._

My mouth drops open, and now my amusement is obvious. I stroke my chin."Can't argue with that assessment, Anastasia."

"I'd discuss it further with you, but I've signed an NDA."

"What I'd like to do to your smart mouth," I murmur.

Ana gasps, "You're very rude." 

"You look very relaxed in these photographs, Anastasia. I don't see you like that very often." I speak softly, but I cannot conceal my frown. Ana flushes and glances down at her fingers. This is her tell sign that she is either nervous or deep in thought. I tilt her head back. "I want you that relaxed with me," I whisper. All trace of humor gone.

"You have to stop intimidating me if you want that," Ana snaps.

"You have to learn to communicate and tell me how you feel," I snap back, eyes blazing.

Ana takes a deep breath. "Christian, you wanted me as a submissive. That's where the problem lies. It's in the definition of a submissive—you e-mailed it to me once." She pauses, "I think the synonyms were, and I quote, 'compliant, pliant, amenable, passive, tractable, resigned, patient, docile, tame, subdued.' I wasn't supposed to look at you. Not talk to you unless you gave me permission to do so. What do you expect?" she hisses.

Her candor is almost overwhelming. I blink and she continues.

"It's very confusing being with you. You don't want me to defy you, but then you like my 'smart mouth.' You want obedience, except when you don't, so you can punish me. I just don't know which way is up when I'm with you," she snaps.

I narrow my eyes. This is a dangerous conversation and here is definitely not the place for it. "Good point well made, as usual, Miss Steele." My voice is frigid and I cannot hide my anger. "Come, let's go eat." I need to get us out of here. And soon.

"We've only been here for half an hour." Her eyes are imploring.

"You've seen the photos; you've spoken to the boy."

"His name is José." Her voice is becoming venomous. Her eyes are hardening and she is not standing down.

"You've spoken to José—the man who, the last time I met him, was trying to push his tongue into your reluctant mouth while you were drunk and ill," I snarl. The monster is here again and he won't be suppressed.

"He's never hit me," She spits back and glares at me.

I scowl at her, fury emanating from every pore. "That's a low blow, Anastasia," I whisper menacingly. This date has been a volatile mixture of lust and anger and only seems to be getting worse. My palms are twitching and I am fighting the urge to either spank her or grab her and kiss her. I run my fingers through my hair, my frustration paramount. "I'm taking you for something to eat. You're fading away in front of me. Find the boy, say good-bye." My anger is barely contained.

"Please, can we stay longer?" Ana states more calmly, but I am far too gone to be accommodating to her request.

"No. Go. Now. Say good-bye." I clip the words out one-by-one.

Ana looks pensive like she wants to spit back a retort, but she goes from glaring at me to scanning the crowd to find Jose. She is still seething as she stalks off toward Jose and a crowd of women. The women leave and I see Ana and Jose exchange words. Ana is scowling, but then has a placating look on her face. I am about to relax a little when I see him take her in his arms and spin her. Ana wraps her arms around him. I stop breathing and when I can unlock my muscles enough to get air in, the air is cold and feels like I am inhaling broken glass. I will my legs to move. I make my way over toward them. I am still glowering as I see him hugging her more tightly.

"Don't be a stranger, Ana. Oh, Mr. Grey, good evening," Jose states, releasing his hold on Ana.

"Mr. Rodriguez, very impressive." I manage to be icily polite. "I'm sorry we can't stay longer, but we need to head back to Seattle. Anastasia?" I subtly stress 'we' and take Ana's hand. My fingers lace an iron cage around hers.

"Bye, José. Congratulations again." Ana gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.

_Enough._ Before I know it I am dragging her out of the building. I am boiling with silent wrath. _Anywhere. I need to find anywhere. _I frantically scan quickly up and down the street then head left and abruptly sweep Ana into a side alley. My tether has snapped and I push her up against a wall. I grab her face between my hands, forcing her to look at me. I swoop my head down to her and force her into a kiss. Our teeth clash and I don't care. I thrust my tongue into her mouth. My kiss is so desperate that I am trying to kiss her very soul. Memories of when I kissed her in the Heathman elevator and my desperate need to have her flood me. I am letting out all my frustration—of her leaving, the frustration of the days I lost without her, and now all the frustration of what has transpired tonight: the large invasive photos of Ana, the blond jerk trying to flirt with her, Jose's embrace, Ana wrapping her arms around him too. This is just too much.

I am pulled back from my reverie as I notice Ana is kissing me back. Her hands are in my hair, pulling it. I groan. I want her here. Now. The busy street be damned! I slide my hands down her sides and grasp her thighs. My fingers clench the plum fabric of her dress. I yield to her lust. Her breaths are becoming my breaths; drawing us near and binding us tight. I pour all the angst and heartbreak of the last few days into our kiss, and it hits me—in this moment of blinding passion—she's doing the same, she feels the same. I break off the kiss. I pull air into my lungs, panting as if I ran a marathon.

"You. Are. Mine," I snarl, emphasizing each word. I push away from her and bend, hands on my knees. "For the love of God, Ana." _Why do you torture me?_

I look up at Ana. She is leaning up against the wall, trying to get her breathing under control too. "I'm sorry," she whispers once her breath has returned. Seeing her in this dim street-lamp light is simply breathtaking. And this simple act of kissing her again almost unmanned me. I knew that breaking off the kiss was the only sure way not to take her here and now in this shabby alley.

"You should be. I know what you were doing. Do you want the photographer, Anastasia? He obviously has feelings for you," I scold. My heart is still racing from our kiss.

She shakes her head, "No. He's just a friend."

"I have spent all my adult life trying to avoid any extreme emotion. Yet you… you bring out feelings in me that are completely alien. It's very... unsettling." I am grasping for words. "I like control, Ana, and around you that just"—I stand and gaze at her—"evaporates." I wave my hand and run it through my hair. I take a deep breath and clasp her hand. "Come, we need to talk, and you need to eat."

I lead her into a small, but intimate restaurant. "This place will have to do. We don't have much time." The restaurant is decorated with wooden chairs, linen tablecloths, and walls the same deep colour as my playroom—deep blood red—with small gilt mirrors randomly placed, white candles, and small vases of white roses. Ella Fitzgerald croons softly in the background about this thing called love. It's very romantic.

The waiter leads us to a table for two in a small alcove. "We don't have long," I tell the waiter as we sit. "So we'll each have sirloin steak cooked medium, Béarnaise sauce if you have it, fries, and green vegetables, whatever the chef has; and bring me the wine list."

"Certainly, sir." The waiter scuttles off, seemingly surprised by my brusque statement. I take my Blackberry from my pocket and place it on the table.

"And if I don't like steak?" Ana challenges.

I sigh. "Don't start, Anastasia." Now is not the time for her smart mouth.

"I am not a child, Christian." Ana grumbles. She is an inch away from being a petulant child.

"Well, stop acting like one," I quip.

"I'm a child because I don't like steak?" she mutters. The look in her face ranges from surprise to hurt.

_No_, "For deliberately making me jealous. It's a childish thing to do. Have you no regard for your friend's feelings, leading him on like that?" I scowl with impatience as the waiter returns with our wine list. I glance at the wine list. "Would you like to choose the wine?" my expression arrogant, as I look at her, knowing she knows nothing of wine. _I know I am being the childish one now... _

"You choose," she answers, somewhat sullen, but chastened.

"Two glasses of the Barossa Valley Shiraz, please."

"Er... we only sell that wine by the bottle, sir."

"A bottle then," I snap.

"Sir." The waiter beats a quick and silent retreat. I stare back at Ana. I know this night is half over and I seem to say only the wrong things.

"You're very grumpy," Ana states, frowning.

"I wonder why that is?" I try for impassive, but it comes out cold.

"Well, it's good to set the right tone for an intimate and honest discussion about the future, wouldn't you say?"

Ana is smiling sweetly, but there is sarcasm there as well. My lips fight the slight smile forming in the corners. "I'm sorry," I softly state.

"Apology accepted, and I'm pleased to inform you I haven't decided to become a vegetarian since we last ate."

"Since that was the last time you ate, I think that's a moot point."

"There's that word again, moot." Ana is smiling.

"Moot," I mouth the word. I run a hand through my hair, gathering courage to face the inevitable statement I said earlier. "Ana, the last time we spoke, you left me. I'm a little nervous. I've told you I want you back, and you've said... nothing." My voice, like my gaze is intense.

"I've missed you... really missed you, Christian. The past few days have been... difficult." Ana swallows, and a flash of pain crosses her face. She continues, forcing the words out, "Nothing's changed. I can't be what you want me to be," she says sullenly.

"You are what I want you to be," I state softly, but emphatically. I listen to the words that were near spoken when she left me. This thought brings the stabbing pains back.

"No, Christian, I'm not."Ana speaks with determined resolve.

"You're upset because of what happened last time. I behaved stupidly, and you... So did you. Why didn't you safe word, Anastasia?" My tone now accusatory. I instantly recall the conversation with Flynn and the safe-word. "Answer me," I plead.

"I don't know. I was overwhelmed. I was trying to be what you wanted me to be, trying to deal with the pain, and it went out of my mind. You know... I forgot," Ana whispers as she shrugs.

"You forgot!" I gasp. I grab the sides of the table and glare at her. I am still perturbed with her childish shrug. "How can I trust you?" I say, dropping my voice lower. "Ever?"

The waiter arrives with our wine as we sit staring at each other, blue eyes to gray. Both of us filled with unspoken recriminations, while the waiter removes the cork with an unnecessary flourish and pours a little wine into my glass. I roll my eyes and reach out and take a sip. "That's fine." My curt tone does not impel the waiter to go the hell away. The waiter gingerly fills our glasses, and places the bottle on the table before beating a hasty retreat. _Who is he trying to impress? _I do not take my eyes off Anastasia the entire time.

Ana breaks our eye contact and picks up the glass. She takes a large gulp. "I'm sorry," she whispers, and then goes suddenly quiet.

Alarm hits me. My lungs are tightening and I can't breathe. Panic close to the scale of when she left closes in. "Sorry for what?" I can't keep the angst from my words.

"Not using the safe word."

_Not using the safe word? _I close my eyes in relief. I thought that her 'I'm sorry' was her cue to give me the bad news and that this night—and our time together—was finite. She said it so factually, like a determination to end this conversation. This really is her sincere apology. "We might have avoided all this suffering," I mutter, still angry, but somewhat mollified.

"You look fine," Ana states simply.

"Appearances can be deceptive," I whisper. "I'm anything but fine. I feel like the sun has set and not risen for five days, Ana. I'm in perpetual night here." I gaze at her, my eyes exposing all truths. "You said you'd never leave, yet the going gets tough and you're out the door."

"When did I say I'd never leave?"

"In your sleep. It was the most comforting thing I'd heard in so long, Anastasia. It made me relax." I confess. Everything said and done has come to this point. It is now or never. _And God, I hope it's not the never... _"You said you loved me," I whisper, embracing my sudden courage. "Is that now in the past tense?"

Ana takes a sip from her wine to escape my gaze. "No, Christian, it's not."

I close my eyes and drink in her words. "Good." I feel the relief flow through me.

The waiter is back. This is an inopportune time for him to appear. Briskly he places our plates in front of us and scuttles away. "Eat," I command. All the reports from Sawyer come to mind, as well as seeing her at SIP. She is staring into her plate as if it conceals a secret escape hatch. She needs to eat—even if I have to force-feed her myself. "So help me God, Anastasia, if you don't eat, I will take you across my knee here in this restaurant, and it will have nothing to do with my sexual gratification. Eat!"

"Okay, I'll eat. Stow your twitching palm, please." She is attempting humour, but it is not appreciated at this moment. I continue staring at her until I see her lift her knife and fork and slice into her meal. I know she is probably unhappy with my domineering interference. With how long these days without her have been, she's lucky that I am not cutting her food for her.

We eat our supper in silence. I keep watch of her eating, but my thoughts drift to the past. I miss her and I want her. She slakes my needs; I don't need this meal to be sated.

"Do you know who's singing?" Ana asks to break our silence.

I pause and tilt my head to listen. "No... but she's good, whoever she is."

"I like her, too."

I relax. I give her a private smile that piques her interest. "What?" she asks.

I shake my head, refusing to give anything away. "Eat up," I state, glancing at my watch.

"I can't manage any more. Have I eaten enough for Sir?" She is staring at her plate. "I am really full," she adds , taking another sip of wine.

"We have to go shortly. Taylor's here, and you have to be up for work in the morning."

"So do you."

"I function on a lot less sleep than you do, Anastasia. At least you've eaten something." I stare at her plate, somewhat placated by the amount of food she ate.

"Aren't we going back via Charlie Tango?"

"No, I thought I might have a drink. Taylor will collect us. Besides, this way I have you in the car all to myself for a few hours, at least. What can we do but talk?" I motion to the waiter for our bill and pick up my Blackberry to call Taylor. "We're at Le Picotin, South West Third Avenue."

"You're very brusque with Taylor, in fact, with most people."

"I just get to the point quickly, Anastasia."

"You haven't gotten to the point this evening. Nothing's changed, Christian."

_Nothing's changed... just like her statement of 'we broke up...she is still on that tired horse. _"I have a proposition for you."

"This started with a proposition."

"A different proposition." I state. The waiter returns and I slide him my credit card. I do not even check the bill as he swipes the card. My Blackberry buzzes and I peek at it. "Come. Taylor's outside." We stand and I take her hand. "I don't want to lose you, Anastasia." I graze my lips on her knuckles tenderly.

The audi waits outside. I open Ana's door and she climbs into the plush seats. I do not follow, but instead go over to speak with Taylor,who was standing at his door. "I will need privacy to speak with Ana on the way home. Please listen to your iPod and use your earbuds."

"Yes, Sir," Taylor nods.

We both enter the audi. Taylor starts the SUV and pulls into traffic. I stare ahead and wait for the music. As the music begins, I shift and face her. "As I was saying, Anastasia, I have a proposition for you." Ana glances nervously at Taylor. "Taylor can't hear you," I reassure her.

"How?"

I call out to him. "Taylor," Taylor doesn't respond. I call again, still no response. Ana is gazing with interest and confusion. I lean over and tap Taylor's shoulder. He removes his earbuds and Ana now understands.

"Yes, sir?"

"Thank you, Taylor. It's okay; resume your listening."

"Sir."

"Happy now? He's listening to his iPod. Puccini. Forget he's here. I do."

"Did you deliberately ask him to do that?"

"Yes."

"Okay, your proposition?" She seems more at ease now, knowing that our conversation will remain private.

I have thought long and hard on what I want to accomplish with Ana. I also have taken that deeply enlightening conversation that I had with John. I know what my goals are and now I have to enact them. "Let me ask you something first. Do you want a regular vanilla relationship with no kinky fuckery at all?" I need this question to field what _she_ wants.

"Kinky fuckery?" she squeaks.

"Kinky fuckery," I declare.

"I can't believe you said that." she glances nervously at Taylor.

"Well, I did. Answer me."

"I like your kinky fuckery," she whispers and I feel her embarrassment.

"That's what I thought. So what don't you like?"

Ana has paused and I start to worry. "The threat of cruel and unusual punishment."

Her response confuses me and I need clarification. "What does that mean?"

"Well, you have all those canes and whips and stuff in your playroom, and they frighten the living daylights out of me. I don't want you to use them on me." I see her visibly shiver.

I appreciate her honesty with me. _Sad that it took this long._ "Okay, so no whips or canes—or belts, for that matter," I say sardonically, but with agreement.

"Are you attempting to redefine the hard limits?"

"Not as such, I'm just trying to understand you, get a clearer picture of what you do and don't like."

"Fundamentally, Christian, it's your joy in inflicting pain on me that's difficult for me to handle. And the idea that you'll do it because I have crossed some arbitrary line."

"But it's not arbitrary; the rules are written down."

"I don't want a set of rules."

"None at all?"

"No rules." Ana states, shaking her head.

"But you don't mind if I spank you?"

"Spank me with what?" Her eyes widen.

"This." I hold up my hand and smirk at her.

"No, not really. Especially with those silver balls..." I can tell she is squirming.

Even in the dark SUV, I see the delight in her eyes. "Yes, that was fun." I know that we are both reliving the memory of the first time she wore the silver balls.

"More than fun," she agrees.

"So you can deal with some pain."

She shrugs. "Yes, I suppose."

I stroke my chin. In order for her to fully trust me, I need to share my plans with her. "Anastasia, I want to start again. Do the vanilla thing and then maybe, once you trust me more and I trust you to be honest and to communicate with me, we could move on and do some of the things that I like to do." I am anxious and all she can do is stare back at me.

"But what about punishments?" she asks skeptically.

"No punishments." I shake my head to emphasise my point. "None."

"And the rules?"

"No rules."

"None at all? But you have needs."

"I need you more, Anastasia. These last few days have been purgatory. All my instincts tell me to let you go, tell me I don't deserve you." I pause, taking a breath and then continue. "Those photos the boy took... I can see how he sees you. You look so untroubled and beautiful, not that you're not beautiful now, but here you sit. I see your pain. It's hard knowing that I'm the one who has made you feel this way." I swallow and take another breath. "But I'm a selfish man. I've wanted you since you fell into my office. You are exquisite, honest, warm, strong, witty, beguilingly innocent; the list is endless. I am in awe of you. I want you, and the thought of anyone else having you is like a knife twisting in my dark soul." I feel like my soul is crying. I have possibly opened myself to a huge disappointment and perhaps rejection. I stare at her and await any reaction.

"Christian, why do you think you have a dark soul? I would never say that. Sad maybe, but you're a good man. I can see that... you're generous, you're kind, and you've never lied to me. And I haven't tried very hard. Last Saturday was such a shock to my system. It was my wake-up call. I realized that you'd been easy on me and that I couldn't be the person you wanted me to be. Then, after I left, it dawned on me that the physical pain you inflicted was not as bad as the pain of losing you. I do want to please you, but it's hard."

_What?_ "You please me all the time," I whisper. "How often do I have to tell you that?"

"I never know what you're thinking. Sometimes you're so closed off... like an island state. You intimidate me. That's why I keep quiet. I don't know which way your mood is going to go. It swings from north to south and back again in a nanosecond. It's confusing and you won't let me touch you, and I want to so much to show you how much I love you."

Her honesty is touching. I blink at her dumbly in the darkness. Suddenly I see her unfasten her seat belt and scramble into my lap. She surprises me by grasping my head in her hands. "I love you, Christian Grey. And you're prepared to do all this for me. I'm the one who is undeserving, and I'm just sorry that I can't do all those things for you. Maybe with time... I don't know... but yes, I accept your proposition. Where do I sign?"

My joy is immense. My heart is no longer constricted; the raw nerves that I have experienced for most of this evening subside. _My heart has come back._ I snake my arms around her and crush her to me. "Oh, Ana," I breathe as I bury my nose in her hair. We sit, our arms wrapped around each other, listening to the music—a soothing piano piece—mirroring the emotions in the car, the sweet tranquil calm after the storm. She snuggles into my arms, resting her head in the crook of my neck. I gently stroke her back to the rhythm of the melody.

"Touching is a hard limit for me, Anastasia," I whisper.

"I know. I wish I understood why."

I pause to think about how to tell her. I sigh, and then state, "I had a horrific childhood. One of the crack whore's pimps... I can remember that," I whisper. I am tense and I recall the horrors of my childhood. This is a pain that I can never share with her. I know that she is tenacious enough to wheedle this out of me eventually. She never fails to surprise me.

"Was she abusive? Your mother?" Her voice is low and soft with unshed tears.

"Not that I remember. She was neglectful. She didn't protect me from her pimp." I snort. "I think it was me who looked after her. When she finally killed herself, it took four days for someone to raise the alarm and find us... I remember that." I sound resigned, but I feel trusting enough to want to share this with Ana.

"That's pretty fucked-up," she whispers.

"Fifty shades," I murmur, but I don't want her pity. She turns her head and presses her lips to my neck. Providing solace? I wonder. I feel her soft breaths against my skin. Her breaths follow the cadence of our matching heartbeats. I tighten my arms around her, thinking back to when I first clasped her hand when we began our date. I was glad to have any skin-to-skin contact with her, even if it was only scraps. Now she is in my arms, where I want her to stay. I sit with her wrapped in my arms and kiss her hair softly. The SUV is silent as Taylor speeds into the darkness.

We are driving through the Seattle streets as I feel Ana stirring. "Hey," I whisper softly.

"Sorry," she murmurs as she sits up. She blinks and stretches. She is still on my lap, but makes no motion to remove herself.

"I could watch you sleep forever, Ana."

"Did I say anything?"

"No. We're nearly at your place."

She seems disappointed. "We're not going to yours?"

"No."

She sits up. "Why not?" she says slightly despondent.

"Because you have work tomorrow."

"Oh." She pouts and it is the most beautiful thing.

I smirk at her. "Why, did you have something in mind?" I raise my brow suggestively.

"Well, maybe." I see the flush in her cheeks. I have so missed her.

I chuckle, knowing that we could so easily end this date in bed together, but I hold steadfast to my plans and take John's advice. "Anastasia, I am not going to touch you again, not until you beg me to." It is almost painful to say this to her. I am warring with myself. I so want her, but I have to stay away for now. I have fought almost six days without sex. Six days without her.

"What!" Ana is almost whining. _I am almost losing the war..._

"So that you'll start communicating with me. Next time we make love, you're going to have to tell me exactly what you want in fine detail." Miscommunication started this whole fiasco, so communication is going to have to remedy it.

"Oh."

I shift her off my lap as we approach her apartment. I feel the loss of her warmth again. I climb out and hold the door for her. "I have something for you." She follows me to the back trunk of the SUV and I pull out the large gift-wrapped box. "Open it when you get inside."

"You're not coming in?"

"No, Anastasia."

"So when will I see you?"

"Tomorrow."

"My boss wants me to go for a drink with him tomorrow."

My face hardens. "Does he, now?" I fail at hiding my malice.

"To celebrate my first week," she adds quickly. I think she is attempting to mollify me.

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"I could pick you up from there."

"Okay... I'll e-mail or text you."

"Good."

I walk her to her door and patiently wait while she searches for her keys. As she is unlocking the door, I can't help myself. I lean forward and tilt her head back. I hover my mouth over hers, and with my eyes closed, I run a trail of kisses the corner of her eye to the corner of her mouth. I am almost undone as I hear her soft moan. "Until tomorrow," I breathe out the words.

"Goodnight, Christian," she whispers, and I hear the need in her voice.

I smile and chuckle so softly that I know she can't hear it. "In you go," I order, and I watch her stroll through the lobby carrying my parcel. "Laters, baby," I call back to her, then turn, and with easy grace, I head back to the car.

I enter the SUV and Taylor is waiting, his earbuds out and is awaiting my instructions. I advise that I want to listen to my iPad that I brought along. Taylor starts the SUV and pulls away from Ana's parking lot. Visibly relaxing, I sit back and enjoy the soft music flooding the back.

… _Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry_

_You don't know how lovely you are_

_I had to find you, tell you I need you_

_Tell you I set you apart..._

… _Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions_

_Oh, let's go back to the start_

_Running in circles, coming up tails_

_Heads on a science apart..._

… _Nobody said it was easy_

_It's such a shame for us to part_

_Nobody said it was easy_

_No one ever said it would be this hard_

_Oh, take me back to the start..._

… _I was just guessing at numbers and figures_

_Pulling the puzzles apart_

_Questions of science, science and progress_

_Don't speak as loud as my heart..._

… _Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me_

_Oh when I rush to the start_

_Running in circles, chasing in tails_

_Coming back as we are..._

… _Nobody said it was easy_

_Oh, it's such a shame for us to part_

_Nobody said it was easy_

_No one ever said it would be so hard_

_I'm going back to the start..._

Tears, both of joy and sadness escape their prison. There were so many opportunities for failure this evening. I take in each word of this song and know that it was written for me. I know that our relationship will face more barriers, but as long as we are both willing to communicate openly, and honestly, we can make it work.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*) **

**EPILOGUE**

The night is near over, and with Christian tucked safely in his office, Gail strolls over to Taylor and embraces him. "It was a chancy thing to do, getting these two lovebirds back together again," she says, nuzzling his chest. "It would have been a disaster if we made a terrible mistake."

Taylor reassures her, "Darling, I have seen them both in the car during the trip back from Portland. I may have been forced to listen to my iPod, but I didn't need my hearing for what their bodies said." He drops his head and sweeps kisses along her forehead and down to her neck.

Gail leans into him. His kisses can be so damn distracting, but she is focusing on finishing this conversation. "Do you think that they'll be okay?"

Taylor ceases the slow kisses and responds. "Yes, with a lot of faith and work and patience. They are both so stubborn and hard-headed to know that they are perfect for each other." Taylor resumes his sweet kisses and slowly draws his hands up her sides, pulling her t-shirt up as he goes.

"Stop that," she scolds, but she sounds more amused than anything. "Stop trying to distract me."

Taylor's tone becomes more serious. "The past five days or so have been hell for Christian, but also for us. We are not his parents, but we love him dearly as a son." He pauses, waiting for Gail to agree or add anything. He continues, "It was painful to see him lying on the floor after driving Ana home, and just as painful to hear her lamenting cries. Ana tried to hold the tears back, but she failed miserably." His tone is soft and regretful. "I also knew that when he had us wait in her parking lot for several hours, that he was not over her." His tone hardens. "I wanted to cuff him in the ears when I saw the sub arrive. That was almost the last straw—and if he were my son, I would have beat him to his senses!"

Gail looks up into her man's beautiful face. "That is why I kept putting her things out: the Cartier box, her Blackberry, laptop, and the car keys. The finishing touch was reminding him that her clothes were still the closet. I left the closet door open on purpose. I knew that he could not resist," she states smugly.

"Well, aren't you the little vixen," he states, resuming his delicious kisses down her face and neck. Gail is starting to succumb to his advances, but she too, has a stubborn streak and manages to shake herself out of his spell.

"I know that it was dicey to put Ana's things out—and I'm glad I did—but it needed to be done to get him to see that he needs her." Gail winks with a smile.

"Oh, I agree with you, Who would buy an entire company where his girlfriend works just to keep her safe? It's beyond impetuous." He laughs. "You should have seen the way a man was leering at Ana in SIP. Christian nearly lost his mind."

"Well, we were successful in getting them back together. They just needed a little 'smack on their bottoms' to get them back together." Gail winks when she sees Taylor's shocked expression. "Yes, I know I just made a BDSM joke—a good one at that!" Gail lifts her arms and forces his lips to hers. "You can finish with your impeccable conversation skills now."

With a chuckle and another sweet and soft kiss, he lifts her up and sweeps them both into their side of the apartment.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

C'est tout finis!

Well, this has been one story-writing weekend! Credits go to Coldplay for use of The Scientist (of course!) Another shout-out goes to my two international students- from Korea and Colombia!

**Trivia: Did anyone notice that the restaurant called 'Le Picotin' (mentioned in books 2 and 3) is an anagram of Pitocin? (That was the medicine mentioned in the Freed epilogue? (But not adding the 'Le' makes the anagram work.))**


End file.
